Touché. "Ms. Halsteid gave me permission to leave early."
"Ah, the hot gym teacher." He and Jamie exchange a smirk.
Boys. I suppress an eye-roll. "I'm heading home. See you guys later."
"Or you can come with us," Bennett says, his baby blue eyes twinkling.
My eyes narrow suspiciously. "Where?"
"To Parker's," Jamie distractedly answers, taking a drag on his cigarette even as he types on his phone.
"I didn't know there was going to be a party."
"It's not going to be a party, Pretty Girl. It's just going to be us."
Should I go with them? I don't feel like going home so early, anyway. I just need to get away from Peyton before I strangle her. Gah, she makes me so angry.
So even though Parker's house seems like an odd choice, I'd rather be there than be in school.
"Fine, I'll go. But I'm bringing my car so I'll just meet you guys there." I start to move to my car but Bennett grabs my arm.
He makes a tutting sound. "Girl, you look like you're in no condition to drive. Give me your keys and I'll drive your car there. Jamie can give you a ride."
I doubt that's true, but if he's offering… "But what about your car?"
He flashes me a dimpled smirk. "Don't worry about it. I'm just gonna bum a ride from this asshole and get it later."
Flicking his cigarette to the ground, Jamie opens his passenger side door and tilts his head. "Come on, Pretty Girl. Your chariot's waiting."
Handing my keys to a still smirking Bennett, I slide into Jamie's Mercedes, wondering how many other girls he'd let into his car. All my fingers combined probably won't even be enough.
"Gonna tell me who pissed you off?" Jamie asks as he speeds away from school.
I blow out a breath. "It's Peyton."
"Ah. The ex-best friend. Sucks to be around her, huh?"
"That's an understatement," I scoff. "She taunts me all the time, as if taking Liam away from me wasn't enough. Like everything that happened was my fault. I feel like she's shifting all the blame on me. I think she hates me." For some reason, it doesn't feel weird talking to Jamie about it.
"She doesn't hate you. She hates herself. And she chooses to take it out on you instead of addressing the issue."
I arch a brow. "Since when did you become a psychologist?"
"Who said I needed to be a damn expert to know that?" he shoots back. "Anyone with half a brain can see what's going on with that girl. She's got issues."
I flick my eyes out the window and mutter, "Doesn't anyone?"
"Yeah, but she's got more. That's why she's fucked in the head. Take it as the friendship version of 'it's not you, it's me.' It's all her. She's just in denial about it."
My only response is to blink at him. Because what am I supposed to say to that?
And maybe he's right. Not the "fucked in the head" part, but the "having issues" one. But I don't see how it's my problem. If Peyton is really going through something, she should fix it herself and leave me out of it.
*******
"Fuck. Fuck. No!" Bennett groans as his character meets a K.O. fate on the screen. Turning to me, he demands, "How are you kicking my ass in this game?"
I want to laugh out loud at the baffled expression on his face. Something tells me Bennett King isn't used to losing, let alone to a girl.
We're in Parker's gaming room. While the guys were talking and joking among themselves, I entertained myself by reading the latest release of E.L. Smith—one of my favorite authors—on my Kindle.
But then Bennett interrupted and jokingly challenged me to play a round of Street Fighter with him, assuring that he'd go easy on me. Well, several rounds later, he realized that there was no need for that.
"Quinn's twin brothers play this all the time. Sometimes, when I come over, I play with them."
He smirks. "Let me guess, you kick their asses, too?"
I shake my head, biting back a laugh. "No. They kick mine, actually."
He scowls and low chuckles sound out from behind us.
"Bennett's the only loser then," Giovanni, who's playing pool with Jamie, snickers.
"Fuck off, it was just a lucky streak," Bennett snarls at him. To me, he says, "No offense, babe."
I shrug. "None taken."
"Someone's salty," Jamie drawls, taking his shot at the pool table. "You should let him win the next round, Pretty Girl, or he'll end up crying."
Leaning back on my seat, I suppress a smile. It's a little weird being in the presence of the Hot Boys Club—as Quinn calls them—twice in a row without Liam when it had always been the five of them. I guess it only goes to show that they prefer hanging out with Parker than with him. And, maybe to them, he's not much of a loss.
Flipping Jamie off, Bennett scoots closer and drapes his arm over the couch—almost touching my shoulders—then flashes his dimples at me. "Want to go another round? I'll make it hard for you to beat me this time."
Clearly, he's trying to charm me.
I let out a laugh and put the controller down on the coffee table next to his beer. "No, I think I'm done."
"Come on, just one more."
I shake my head. "Nope. Still done."
"But I haven't even won yet," he pouts, making him look adorable.
I don't think he'll appreciate me calling him that, though. Unless it's exactly what he's going for in order to win me over.
I narrow my eyes at him.
"She said she was done." The stern voice comes from behind us, making me jolt.
I don't have to turn around to know the owner of that voice.
Parker.
But now that I think about it, he's only been down here for like five minutes before disappearing for an hour. Where did he go?
Bennett flicks his gaze over his shoulder then smirks. "So protective."
"Might want to take your arm off of her if you want to keep
