Page 88 of The Games We Play

“I’ll take some, sweet cheeks,” Niro says, sitting back in his chair.

“Same,” King says.

“Me too,” Vex adds.

And suddenly I’m sharing Iris with the three of them while she cracks a shit ton of eggs and fries up a bunch of stuff she found in the refrigerator. Peppers, onions, some chorizo. Once it’s all assembled in a dish, she slips it in the oven.

“So, your uncle?” Vex says to Iris, and I see the color drain from her cheeks.

“What about him?” Iris grips the counter with white knuckles.

Vex glances at me and grins before answering. “He going to remove our boy’s balls when he finds out?”

“You want me to punch Vex too?” I ask Iris.

“Just asking,” Vex says, palms raised in sign of surrender. “What does he think about the two of you?”

“He doesn’t know,” I answer. “Yet.”

King rolls his eyes, then glances at Iris. “This going to bring trouble to the club, Irish?”

I glance over at Iris. Her gaze is lowered. “Nothing in this life is ever certain,” she says, and I’m proud of her. Because it would have been easier to lie.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” When I say this, her eyes meet mine, and there’s something in her gaze I can’t decipher. “I promise, Iris. We’ll be okay.”

29

IRIS

By recess the following Thursday, I’m starved, and when I look around, I realize the neatly packed lunch I made for today is still sitting on my kitchen counter. “Damn it.”

Then I have a thought.

I’m not used to relying on anybody, but I realize I have someone. I pull out my phone and type.

Are you free any time before lunch to help a girl out?

It takes less than minute for him to respond.What do you need, little chick?

I left my lunch on the counter in my kitchen. Any chance you could grab it for me?

What time is lunch?

I tell him and revel in the idea that this man is just going to help me out because he likes me, not because he wants something from me.

And when I hear the roar of his bike during lunch, my heart lurches in my chest. I haven’t seen him since the night we spent at the clubhouse. Club business, he told me. Nothing more. But I realize I’m just glad to know he’s safe.

When I walk to the fence to greet him, I’m taken by just how good he looks. Model-worthy cheeks, and he’s recently washed his hair because it’s down and thick. He grabs my lunch bag and walks toward me with a smile.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, placing my lunch on the floor to slide his arms through the bars of the fence and tug me close. His lips are on mine through the gap in the railings before I have the chance to say a word. “Taste good too,” he mutters against my lips.

As much as I enjoy it, I step back and look around.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head with a grin. “I’m at school, where anybody can see, so I need to be a bit professional.” But it’s too late; we already attracted the attention of my class.

“Who are you?” Thema asks.