The Help (Kings of Linwood Academy 1)

HUNTER: Errr what?

I tell her about the disastrous round of poker and what came of it, feeling even more like an idiot as I lay it all out.

HUNTER: Damn. What do you think he’s gonna make you do??

ME: Fuck if I know

HUNTER: What if he asks you to blow him? Or ALL of them???

ME: Wow, that’s the FIRST thing your mind went to?

HUNTER: Hey, I’m a freakin realist. You owe a guy a favor? It’s gonna involve sex somehow

ME: Well then I’m not doing it. They can ban me from whatever games they want

HUNTER: You sure? They’re all fine as hell

She knows that because she threatened me with death if I didn’t send her pictures of all of them.

ME: That I don’t want to be coerced into giving them all blowjobs? Yeah, pretty sure

HUNTER: You’re no fun

ME: No, I’m just not a porn star, thanks

HUNTER: ….

She’s still typing out a message when someone bumps into me from behind, making the liquid in my cup slosh over the side.

“Oops, sorry.”

A guy with short brown hair whose name I don’t know puts out a hand to steady me. Or tries to. He’s wobbly on his feet, and he ends up clinging to me for support.

“It’s cool, don’t worry about it.” I pry his fingers from my arm with one hand, trying not to spill any more of my drink.

“All right, little buddy. Let’s leave the nice lady alone.” Trent chuckles as he comes up behind the boy, taking his shoulders and turning him away before giving him a little push. The guy stumbles slightly and then weaves away, and Trent grins at me.

“Um, thanks,” I mutter.

I don’t really know what to say. It’s not like he rescued me, exactly, but the way he’s looking at me makes it clear he sure thinks he did.

“It’s the least I could do for a pretty girl like you.”

Uh, what?

I don’t really like Trent, although I don’t specifically dislike him either. But we barely ever interact, and he’s never hit on me like this before. He’s a good looking guy, I guess. His bright blue eyes are set a little close together, which skews the proportions of his face, but he’s got the classic blond-haired, tall, strapping thing going on that girls seem to love.

I’m not interested though. He’s nowhere near as good-looking as Lincoln and his friends—not that I’m interested in any of them either.

“I saw you in the stands tonight,” he continues, stepping a little closer to me as a pack of girls moves through the kitchen behind him. “I’m glad you finally came to a game. What’d you think?”

“It was cool. Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks.” He grins again, and his gaze heats as he rakes it up and down my body. “Maybe you were my lucky charm.”

I roll my eyes. “I doubt that.”

“Well, you’ll have to come to all my games now, just in case.” He steps a little closer, brushing the knuckles of one hand down my arm.