From what I had heard, she was an independent school kid and was joining as a junior in eleventh grade. I had no idea why Miller had enrolled her in our shithole of a school. That was a puzzle I had yet to solve. Maybe it was more convenient for school runs and crap like that?
I really couldn’t give a flying fuck. Irrespective of recent events, the Miller brat’s life had probably been a walk in the park compared to mine.
Scrunching my eyes, I refocused on the conversation before me. “Tight body, nice ass,” Micah was blathering. The guy was a walking-talking hard-on with a soft spot for anything with a pussy. He wasn’t overly choosy either, so I took what he said about Miller’s daughter with a pinch of salt. “Considering she’s a principal’s daughter, she fills out her uniform like a porn star.”
I placed my elbows on the table and looked him directly in the eye, “What about her face?”
As I laidthatquestion on the table, my mind was occupied with thoughts of Molly’s. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I had never seen anything so fucking sweet. I wantedto be close to her again and smell her scent: coconuts and strawberries, fresh and new.
Micah shrugged and plucked a fry from his plate. “I didn’t look at that part.”
“Reed’s right. Youarea pervert, Micah,” I snickered.
His face scrunched as he chewed and leaned over to grab the ketchup bottle. “Bro, I’m not a pervert; I’m just honest. I shit you not. With a pair of ta-tas like that, keeping eye contact was nearly impossible.”
Storm huffed from my left as she continued to push salad around her plate, “You’re a little too honest, Micah. I don’t particularly want to discuss another female’s tits whilst I’m trying to eat my lunch.”
“But these aren’t justanytits. These are Mary-Ann Miller’s titties,” he chuckled, fully naming the principal's daughter. I’d had to bite my lip when I’d been given her name a few weeks ago.Mary-Ann. A proper goody-goody's name. The girl probably went to church too.
Storm lowered her fork and glanced between us. “She doesn’t like to be called Mary-Ann anyway.”
“How do you know?” Micah questioned with a curl of his lip.
“Because she told me so,” Storm informed us with a bored expression.
I exhaled noisily. The prissy little bitch probably expected people to call her Miss Miller.
Before I could comment, Micah jumped in again. “I’ll call her whatever she wants me to. It won’t matter when I’m balls deep inside her.”
A younger kid who had foolishly decided to sit at our table choked, and soda came down his nose. To be honest, I hadn’t even realized he was there.
Dragging her shocked gaze from the scrawny freshman and back to Micah, Storm spat, “Keep your comments about your balls to yourself. Do you want me to hurl?”
I shot my brother awhateverexpression. Storm rarely ate a thing; too worried about carbs, just like most of the airheads at school. If I found out she was starving herself again, I’d be having words. The bitch annoyed the living shit out of me but she was part of our friendship group and we all looked out for each other.
Like persistently farting in assembly, Micah didn’t know when to stop. “What would you throw up? Fresh fucking air. You’ve been pushing that rabbit food around your plate all lunch.”
Storm snorted, “At least I don’tinhalemy food.”
I wondered what she meant by that, but Micah cut off my train of thought.
“Nope—you just swallow it.”
Shaking her head, she fake-laughed. “You’re such a dick.”
Storm’srealaversion to the topic of the discussion was because it was about another girl and not her. Storm and her friend Tate were the most popular girls in school; if a topic wasn’t about them, they had zero interest. Period.
Reed made a good point “If you insist on sitting with the boys Storm, you’ll have to get on board with our guy shit.”
She huffed, “Shitbeing the operative word.”
“Ooh, such a big word for such a little girl,” Reed smirked. Helovedputting Storm down and tormenting her about her brainandlooks. Although, in all truth, when it came toeitherof those things, Reed didn’t have any worthy ammunition. Storm was smartandbeautiful, she just preferred to hide how intelligent she was. During a heart-to-heart one night, she’d said that boys didn’t like girls who were cleverer than they were. I would have told her she was hanging around with the wrong boys, but since that was us, I’d shut my mouth.
Storm’s birthday was the same day as mine in October. The seventeen-year-old cheerleader boasted long, black hair, grey eyes and a sweet face that didn’t match her true disposition. She also had a cracking body. Storm was captain of the cheer squad and had one of those perfectly tanned, athletic forms of a dancer. She was also a complete psycho bitch. I’d supposedly fucked her once, and that was enough. Although that happened after a session of Never Have I Ever that went too far—a game that shouldneverbe played while drinking hard liquor. So, as far as I was concerned, it didn’t count. My memory of that night was vague, to say the least. I’d only had Storm's word that it ever even happened.
“Shit isn’t a big word?” Micah suddenly put in with a dumb grin.
“I meant operative, dickhead,” Reed replied with a roll of his eyes.
