Page 154 of Satan's Spawn

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Hendrix drawls as she takes a sip of her iced tea.

“Look at that, Hen, we’re already halfway to besties.”

“Do not call me that.” She strikes him with a fierce glare.

“Can we help you?” Archer leans back. “Your clique is that way.” He points to where Saint, Crayton, and Levi are scattered around their usual dining hall table.

Saint is buried in his phone as always, Levi tossing his water bottle in the air, and Crayton is staring anywhere but at me as usual.

At least I don’t have to watch Alexis hanging all over him. Word around the halls is she disappeared after our fight.

Probably to the make up store to hide her face.

“I’m just saying hi to my pal, here.” He refers to me. “And please, Beaumont,” the corner of Riggs’ lip quirks up, “we both know exactly where you’d prefer I be sitting.”

He winks, and Archer’s face turns cherry red.

What the hell is that about?

“Tell me, Bishop,” Archer recovers at lightning speed, and rests his elbows on the table, “how many girls do you need to lie about having sex with before it becomes pathological?”

Riggs lets out a burst of laughter, slapping his knee before he stands. “Oh, Archy boy, you are one to talk about lies.”

“Am I missing something here?” I look between them both.

“No.” Hendrix grits through her teeth. “Good-bye, Riggs.”

Riggs ruffles my hair before blowing my friends a kiss, then meanders back to his table.

“What the hell was he talking about, guys?”

“Nothing, Riggs is an idiot.” Archer insists.

I don’t get the chance to press further, because I catch Crayton in my peripheral stalking toward us.

Well, me.

My stomach dips with nerves the closer he gets.

Excitement too, of course, because I’m a bigger idiot than Riggs.

“Get up.” Crayton grates, stopping at my side. These being the first words he’s said to me since the day he gave me back my meds.

“The fuck she will!” Hendrix snaps.

“What do you want, Crayton?” I glance up, my heart lurching in my chest at the sight of him looking so good in his school uniform.

I remember every dip of those muscles underneath his button down and jacket.

The beautiful ink surrounding them.

We were so close.

“Either you get the fuck up and come with me, or I embarrass you in front of the entire dining hall. Your choice.”

My eyes are pleading, asking him why he’s doing this. He responds with an odd sense of urgency he clearly doesn’t want people to notice.

Namely me.