Page 30 of The Rivals' Touch

“You’re catching on quick.”

I scoff, throwing a napkin at his face. “Jerk!” I push up to stand, but he pulls me back down.

“Not so fast, babe.”

“What do you want?”

He nudges his head to Jacob. “He’s hungry too.”

I narrow my eyes. Anger bubbles to the surface like burning hot lava. “I hate you!”

“Say it again,” he whispers, his nose brushing up against mine. He’s enjoying this too much.

I ball my fists and inject my voice with as much venom as possible. “I. Hate. You!”

His warm breath fans my lips, and he groans. “Fuck, talk dirty to me, babe!”

Jacob looks bored. He motions to the food on his plate. “It’s going cold.”

I snap my eyes away from Zayd and flip Jacob off.

“Sit on his lap!” Zayd breathes in my ear and then slaps my ass when I rise to my feet.

Jacob grabs my elbow and pulls me down on his lap with a wide grin. “Hey, beautiful.”

If any of this ends up on social media, I’ll be in a heap of fucking trouble. But this I can explain. The picture of me sleeping naked next to Zayd, I can’t.

I reach for a fry and ignore the taunting smirk on Zayd’s face while I feed his friend fries like a good little girl. Jacob’s lips brush against my fingers with his next bite. He winks at me.

I pull my hand away like I’ve been burned and reach for another fry, but he clears his throat. I look at him questioningly.

“I’m thirsty.”

I sneer and offer him the coke, bringing it to his lips.

He takes a large gulp, his throat bobbing. The melting ice clatters inside the paper cup. “Babe, I spilled a little on my chin,” he says around an ice cube and points to the droplets of coke below his lip. “Wipe it off.”

I know he wants me to do it in a sexy way, so instead, I drag my entire palm down his face and smile. “Better?”

He chuckles, biting down on a cube of ice. “Like I said—feisty.”

Legacy glares at Zayd, arms crossed, attitude written all over her face. “Why is she here, Zayd?”

He snatches up the last fry on his plate and pops it into his mouth. “Got a problem?”

“Actually, I do! Remi’s a Hedgewood. She shouldn’t sit at our table.”

I hold up a finger as I feed the smirking asshole in front of me another fry. “For once, I agree one hundred percent with the witch. I would gladly sit literally anywhere but here.”

Zayd ignores me. Raising his chin, he declares, “She’s Aycliffe now. She sits with us.”

Unimpressed, Legacy quirks a brow. “Just because she goes to our school and wears our cheer uniform doesn’t make her Aycliffe.”

I tip the paper cup too far back on purpose, making cola spill down Jacob’s checkered, black-and-white shirt. “Also true!”

“Jesus, fuck!” Jacob growls, shoving me away and standing up, pulling the wet shirt away from his skin by the hem.

I pick up a fry from his plate and pop it into my mouth. “Oops!”

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