He ducked, causing it to hit Nixon’s hand. Hmm… things just got way more interesting. She’d just inflicted pain on the boss.
“I like her.” Phoenix nodded his approval.
“Yeah, well, I like kids. Doesn’t mean I run around screwing everything I see in order to have one,” Nixon spat.
And he’d been doing so well…
I managed to clear my throat and elbow Mo. She quickly started firing questions to Trace about class. How did she like Elite? Did it meet her expectations? And professors? Were they nice? Any favorites? Pick a major yet?
Our food was brought out a few minutes later, saving Trace from the dreaded “What do you want to do with your life when you graduate?” question.
She poked her meal with her fork. “I’m afraid to ask what this is.”
“Heaven. It’s heaven. It melts in your mouth and makes you scream with ecstasy. Girl, if you don’t have an orgasm after experiencing that particular meal, then you’re a hopeless case.” Phoenix bit hungrily into his food and winked. Good to know someone had gotten laid and awoken on the happy side of the bed.
Trace’s face went all red. Adorable. I could kiss her. Innocence looked good on her. I was fixated on the choice of ruining that innocence or just keeping it for myself. Decisions, decisions.
Mo nudged her. “Don’t worry, Trace. Phoenix always talks like that. I think it’s because he’s never really had—”
Phoenix pointed his fork at Mo and glared. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”
Tex and I burst out laughing.
Nixon, Mr. I have a baseball bat stuck up my ass, refused to laugh. Damn, someone get me a feather or something. It was like the minute she walked in the room he was doing everything in his power to appear pissed off.
We finished eating in a tense silence. One where I watched Trace inhale her food and sneak looks at Nixon, while Nixon gave longing glares in Trace’s direction… like he was pondering screw or shoot?
“So.” Trace glanced at her cell and glanced around the table. “Who eats here next lunch hour?”
We all turned to Nixon. Yeah, that was his territory, his lie to tell, always was, always would be. He sucked in his lip ring and put his hands behind his head, leaning back on the legs of his chair.
Trace’s eyes widened as she stared at his chest. Nixon was doing it on purpose, of course, kind of like the huge distraction before the kill. Where the male presents himself in such a fashion that the victim can only stare at the perfection and then — snap. Neck broken. Dead.
“Nobody…” he said slowly, pointedly.
“Huh?” Trace blinked. Get there faster, girl, before he pounces.
“Eats here,” Nixon said, his tone clipped. “It’s just us. Just this lunch hour.”
“But…” Trace’s eyebrows pinched together. “…then why am I here?”
“We like to slum it sometimes.” Nixon grinned smugly. “Now run off before you’re late.”
Oh shit. Could he at least try not to be an ass?
Trace didn’t move.
Thinking I needed to cut that tension with a giant-ass knife, I put my head in my hands and groaned. “I hate it when Mom and Dad fight.”
Phoenix burst out laughing.
Nixon continued to stare at her like he was killing her with his mind.
With a curse, he pushed his chair back and stormed out of the room. The door slammed behind him.
Trace jumped in her seat at the loud sound of the door closing and asked, “Is he always like that?”
“Actually…” Tex leaned forward. “…no. I think you bring out the worst in him.”
“Yay me,” she said in a sarcastic tone.
“You’re the first outsider who has ever eaten in here,” Mo said. “He hands out keycards to control the cliques. To make sure fights don’t break out between the kids from different countries at war and stuff. I just assumed he put you in one of the normal lunches.”
“What do you mean?”
I offered my two cents in a way she’d understand. “He’s not just in charge of the keycards. He’s student body president. He makes sure that access is limited for each student. Take, for example, a kid from North Korea going to school here. You think they’re going to get along with a South Korean? Or better yet, some ritzy American kid?”
“Um… no?” Her brown eyes were wide, questioning, as if she was afraid her answer wasn’t correct.
Everyone laughed.
Phoenix shook his head. “That’s a hell no, New Girl.”
I uncrossed my arms and leaned forward, close enough to be able to smell her perfume or shampoo, whatever it was. I wanted more. “What if some sheik’s kid goes to school here but he’s from a different sect than some other kid? What if those same kids eat in the same lunchroom that serves pork?”