One dark lock of his hair falls across his forehead, and he brushes it to the side as we walk over.
I swear there may as well be a silver loaded gun on the booth tabletop for how intimidating Sevan looks, even just sitting alone at a table.
“God,” I mutter under my breath before we’re within earshot of the table. “Niko, was your cousin always… violent?”
Please say no.
Please. Say. No.
“Oh, absolutely,” Niko says.
Niko sets down his food tray and walks over to Sev, giving him a side-hug, smiling with ease.
He takes the seat next to Sev and I wait for everyone else to sit down before taking a spot as far away from him as I can.
I drop my tray on the table and a little bit of my ginger-soy sauce splashes out from the edge of the rim. I reach for a wad of napkins right away, and already, I can feel Sev’s eyes burning into me.
“Chill, Sheriff,” he says. “It’s just sauce. No need to be anal about it.”
“Cleaning a spill doesn’t mean I’m anal, but thanks, Sev.”
Fuck, his low voice.
Is he making it low and husky like that to torment me?
Or am I just losing my fucking mind around him already?
I finally sit down and avert my gaze from him. From the opposite side of the curved booth, there’s enough distance between us that I can at least pretend he isn’t there.
I sit at the edge of my end of the booth with Noah beside me, and I pop a carrot in my mouth, perfectly crunchy and cold. Steak sushi, carrots, and a big salad is the type of dinner that the guys make fun of me for, telling me I’m too healthy.
But I like taking care of my body. For me, having rice at all is a splurge.
Hunter and Niko start talking to Sev about some new racing video game, and I relax a little.
Just going to ignore him.
I chat with Noah for a while, shooting the shit about his week.
“Fuck, she’s here,” Noah murmurs a minute later as I’m taking a long sip of water, and I look up to follow his gaze.
Stephanie Kim is sitting a few tables over looking like she’s ready for a ballroom more than a campus dining hall. Her dress is glimmering gold and her long black hair is up, with tendrils framing either side of her face.
She broke Noah’s heart a few days ago.
Just like his heart was “broken” a couple of weeks before that.
And about a dozen other times this semester, ever since he started trying todaterather than just have sex with every girl at Crimson College.
“Flashy dress,” I tell Noah.
He looks at her with a sad puppy expression. “She looks like a fucking supermodel.God, I fucked up so bad.”
I give Noah a squeeze on the shoulder. “Bro. You’re better without her.”
He groans, shaking his head. “I’m cooked, dude.”
Everyone can tell that women don’t trust Noah’s fuckboy reputation anymore. It turns out that when Noah falls for someone, he falls hard. But girls keep dropping him like a hotcake the second he tries to get close.