Page 72 of The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy 1)
“This party sounds like hell,” I murmur, frosting the top of a vanilla-lavender cupcake with soft heather-purple icing that Ranger nearly killed me over. I put too many drops of his organic, all natural food coloring in it and turned it Teletubby purple. He looked like he was getting ready to wring my neck. A little extra white icing fixed it up nicely though.
“Hell to hang out with a bunch of hot girls in short skirts? You sure you're bi? Because that's a pretty gay thing to say.” Ranger pulls another tray of cupcakes from the oven as Ross gives him a dirty look. Usually he's simpering around the boys and worshipping at their feet. “What?” Ranger asks, giving him a look right back. “I didn't say it was bad, just that it was super gay. What red-blooded dude doesn't want to hang out with a bunch of sex hungry girls?”
“Sex hungry, please,” I scoff, getting this weird little knot in my belly that I can't explain. It tastes like jealousy. Which, apparently, tastes like currants and orange zest because that's what I'm getting on the back of my tongue. Maybe it was the cupcake I snuck in the corner though? “Like they're throwing themselves at you guys? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
“So many hookups happen at that party,” Spencer says, leaning against the wall with his shirt undone, tie loose and hanging. He's covered in chocolate, too, thumbprints showing exactly where he's reached down to unconsciously straighten his tie.
He moves over to the door, peers out, and then closes and locks it so he and Ranger can sneak cigarettes by the window.
“It's practically a bacchanalian affair,” Church says, sitting next to a row of perfect mocha-chocolate cupcakes with chocolate covered coffee beans perched on the top. He's also sipping a white chocolate mocha that Ranger made him. “Bring extra condoms for your micropenis, Carson.”
“Do they even make them in extra-extra small?” the twins ask, exchanging a look and a snicker. I ignore them and use the little tweezer things that Ranger gave me to place a fondant and sparkle sugar flower on the top of my cupcake.
“Hilarious.” I roll my eyes as Ranger comes to stand beside me, the heat of his body jumping the space between us and making me feel nervous. I just put over a dozen little flowers on cupcakes with no issue, and now my hands are shaking. I end up breaking one of the petals.
“Good god, Carson,” Ranger snorts, moving up behind me and reaching around to guide my hand. He curls his fingers around my wrist, and a jolt of energy shoots through me. My lips part as he uses my fingers to take a tiny brush, dips it in clear icing, and makes a glue to repair the petal. “Helpless dickwad.”
He releases me, and I try not to breathe in his scent, that vanilla and leather smell that makes me want to shift around on my stool. My whole body feels hot when he gets in sniffing distance. Am I total weirdo? I am. Yep. Definitely a weirdo.
“I might not even go to the party,” I say, and all six guys in the room turn to look at me. Ross puts his hand on his hip and smirks.
“Trust me, girl,” he says, and I feel this small blip of shock before I remember he calls literally everyone girl, “there's plenty of gossip and fun there for even a unicorn like me to enjoy.”
“Unicorn?” I ask, and he smirks at me.
“Rare and beautiful little gay boy,” he says, giving a little shimmy that makes me laugh. Ugh. I don't want to laugh. I want to hate the little shit. He's been such a dick to me. Then again, it was all at the hands of his Student Council masters, so maybe I should forgive him?
“Ross just started an online relationship with some guy in California. He's on cloud nine, pooping rainbows and all that crap,” Spencer says, moving over to stand beside me. Ross gives him a look and a sigh.
“Don't try to be gay, Spencer, it doesn't suit you.”
“I'm not gay,” Spencer growls, glaring at Ross with his pretty jewel-like eyes. “I'm freaking bi.”
“Have you ever touched a penis other than your own?” Ross asks, and Spencer wrinkles his nose.
“No, but I would. I'd be damn good at it, too.” He smirks and Ross rolls his brown eyes.
“Mother Mary, help me. You are not bisexual. You're just a confused straight dude.”
Spencer looks down at me, and I glance back, meeting his eyes. He narrows them on me, and I grin sheepishly.
“He's probably right,” I tell him, reaching up to push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “You should just leave me alone, and find a nice girl at the party.”
