Chapter 7: Lunch
The walk to the cafeteria felt like a perp walk. Whispers trailed Theo like exhaust fumes. He kept his head down, the oversized hoodie swallowing his frame, smelling unmistakably of Bex—her perfume, her laundry detergent, her. Marcus had peeled off for his own table with a nervous, apologetic glance. Theo was on his own.
The lunchroom noise was a physical wall—clattering trays, shrieks of laughter, the drone of a hundred conversations. He scanned the usual sea of faces and spotted her instantly. She was a skyscraper among bungalows, holding court at a table in the back corner, surrounded by a constellation of glossy, carefully curated girls. They were all sheen and perfect highlights, a sharp contrast to Bex’s athletic, buzz-cut bluntness.
As he approached, a path cleared. Bex saw him, and her face—which had been set in a bored, imperious mask—lit up with a radiant, unnerving smile. “Theo! Over here, baby.”
He slid onto the bench beside her, acutely aware of every eye at the table sizing him up. Before he could even set his tray down, Bex shifted. She didn’t pull up a chair. In one fluid, assertive motion, she turned and settled herself directly into his lap, her back against the table, facing him.
The impact was substantial. She was solid, warm muscle and soft, devastating curves. Her enormous ass settled heavily against his thighs, spreading out, utterly encompassing his narrower frame. He had to brace himself against the table to not buckle under her. One of her long arms snaked around his shoulders, possessive and casual. The other hand went to his cheek, turning his face toward hers. She kissed him, quick and hard, in front of everyone.
“Missed you,” she murmured against his lips, her voice a low thrum only he could hear. Then she raised her voice, addressing the table without looking away from him. “This is Theo. He’s mine. Be nice.”
The four girls at the table offered variations of smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. “I’m Chloe,” said one with sheet-blonde hair. “That’s Sophia, Amber, and Lacey.” They were all beautiful in a uniform, high-maintenance way. Their gazes flicked over Theo’s borrowed, ill-fitting clothes, his awkward posture beneath Bex’s weight, his obvious discomfort.
Bex spent the next twenty minutes half-heartedly engaging in their gossip about someone’s scandalous party, but her focus was primarily on Theo. She fed him a fry from her plate. She played with the too-long sleeve of her hoodie on his arm. She kept shifting slightly in his lap, sending jolts of awareness through him that were equal parts agony and a dark, secret thrill. Her friends watched this display with a mixture of fascination and thinly veiled incredulity.
Finally, Bex sighed, giving his thigh a squeeze. “Gotta pee. Don’t move.” She pushed herself up off him, the sudden absence of her weight leaving him cold and strangely light. She leaned down, her buzzcut brushing his forehead. “I mean it. You sit right here.” Then she was gone, striding through the crowded cafeteria with the unquestioned authority of a warship.
A heavy silence fell over the table.
Chloe was the first to speak, twirling a strand of perfect hair around a manicured finger. “So, Theo. You’re, like, really quiet.”
“He’s thinking,” Sophia said, her voice a studied drawl. “Right? You’re the smart one. Computer club.”
Theo just nodded, pushing a limp piece of pizza around his tray.
Amber leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Look, no offense. You just aren’t really what we expected for Bex. She usually goes for… you know. Guys on the team. Big guys.”
“You’re kind of… cuddly-looking,” Lacey added, not unkindly, but with the bluntness of someone who has never been told to filter a thought.
Theo shrugged, the hoodie bunching around his shoulders. “It just… happened.”
“Obviously,” Chloe said, a sly smile touching her lips. “She’s totally smitten. It’s weirdly cute. In a terrifying way.”
A question pushed past Theo’s nerves. “How did you all become friends with her? You don’t exactly seem….” He trailed off, gesturing weakly at their entire aesthetic.
The four girls exchanged a look. Sophia answered, her tone losing its affectation for a moment, turning practical. “Okay, real talk? Bex is scary. But she’s not mean to us. And being friends with her means nobody, and I mean nobody, ever messes with you. No drama from other girls. No creepy guys. It’s like having a human shield that can also do your algebra homework if you ask nice.”
“She’s actually really loyal,” Amber admitted. “Once, this guy was being a total stalker to Lacey, sending her all these gross messages. Bex found him at his locker, took his phone, and threw it into the girls’ bathroom toilet. While he was watching. He transferred schools a month later.”
They all nodded, a silent sisterhood forged in the shadow of Bex’s protective fury.
Chloe’s expression turned mischievous, edged with something darker. “Just a word of advice, Theo. You’re in it for the long haul now. Seriously. Remember Jeff Cowen?”
Theo shook his head. The name meant nothing.
“Exactly,” Lacey said, her eyes wide. “He dated Bex for like, three months sophomore year. Thought he was hot shit ’cause he was a linebacker. He tried to dump her over text.”
A cold trickle slid down Theo’s spine. “What happened?”
“No one knows for sure,” Amber whispered, glancing toward the bathroom doors. “He came to school the next Monday with his arm in a cast. Said he fell. Two weeks later, his family moved to another state. Poof. Gone.”
They all looked at him, the unspoken warning hanging in the greasy cafeteria air.
Just then, the ambient noise around their table dipped. Bex was returning. She slid back onto the bench and, without hesitation, resumed her position in Theo’s lap, settling her heavy warmth back onto him with a contented sigh. She nuzzled the side of his head, her breath warm against his ear. “They behaving?”
Theo’s throat was dry. He looked at the four girls, their faces now masks of pleasant neutrality. “Yeah,” he managed. “They were nice.”
Bex smiled, a genuine, bright thing that transformed her sharp features. “Good.” She pressed a soft kiss to his temple, her hand stroking his back through the thick hoodie fabric. It was a shockingly tender gesture from someone who could likely bench-press him. The contrast was dizzying.
He was trapped in the most comfortable, terrifying cage imaginable—the intoxicating softness of her against him, the lingering threat in the air, the possessive weight of her body pinning him in place. He felt a confusing, powerful surge of something that wasn’t quite fear, wasn’t quite desire, but a volatile mixture of both.
Bex leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, her voice a private, velvety promise just for him. “You’re doing perfect.”