The Wildcards

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Chapter 6

Prowling through the hallway, Asher’s lip curls in amusement as he watches all the little toys excitedly move around, so happy for their precious Homecoming week.

“Two more. This morning!” A familiar voice chirps behind him. ”The best part of wakin’ up is dick within your cunt.”

A twisted grin of amusement crosses Asher’s face. “Unless it’s waking up with the Varsity Cheer...” Catching sight of the distinctive Navy and light blue with a light gray edging of a cheer uniform as he turns to face her, Asher raises a surprised brow. “Please tell me you stole that off some J.V. Cheerleader you fucked.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Charlie winks, before resting an arm on his shoulder and leaning in close, taunting him. Acting like she’s coming in for a kiss, though they both know he doesn’t care if she gives him one or not. “But you’ll never know. Either way,” she suddenly springs back, “I look damn good in it!”

Shockingly enough to him, the little terror has been challenging to stay ahead of in their little game. She’s also one of the very few girls that haven’t seemed to fall for the animalistic magnetism he possesses.

“And bonus,” she beams as she walks her fingers up his arm, avoiding his chest, before she leans in to whisper, “I score a lot more when I wear it.” In the month they’ve been competing, Charlie’s noticed every time she gets near Asher’s chest he seems to withdraw. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he doesn’t like to be touched there. Or maybe it does since there are a lot of girls that throw themselves at Asher and all seem to try and touch his chest.

Like Asher, Charlie is surprised at how difficult their little composition has been. She figured he’d do well. He’s handsome and charming, but not this well. There’s an almost unnatural animal magnetism about him. The other girls of Stem just can’t help but fawn all over him, and it makes him all the more intriguing to Charlie as well. The males of Stem though... if they could murder him and get away with it.

Ignoring all their death glares Asher smirks and bites his lip ring, “Not counting your boyfriend, right?”

“Again,” she groans, ”not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That so?” He cocks a brow as an amused grin crosses his face and his gaze lands on something behind her.

“Mother fucker,” she sighs as her shoulders drop, and her face falls flat in unamusement, “he’s standing right there, isn’t he?”

“Glaring daggers,” his grin widens into something almost taunting in nature.

Spinning around, she glares up at Ty. “Would you stop? And tell him,” she gestures behind herself, “that you are not my boyfriend.”

Crossing his arms, Ty just narrows his eyes at Asher while beside him Zack Mendez talks with Ty’s and Charlie’s childhood friend Linsey Smith.

“Oh for the love,” Charlie rolls her eyes, and nudges the young Asian girl, “Do I have a boyfriend?”

Turning, Linsey’s eyes widen at the question as her gaze jumps between Asher and Ty, “I am so not getting involved in that,” she points to both boys.

“Of course you’re not.” Charlie throws her hands out to the side in a huff, before turning a glaring eye at Ty. “You’re not my boyfriend. If you were all this,” she reaches out and grabs his junk, “It would be all mine. Because you’d expect to keep me all for yourself. So” she flips him the bird, “you can go fuck yourself.” Turning to tell Asher and his smug self off too, Charlie is met with empty space, “Goddamn it... I was going to tell him to fuck off.”

“Pretty sure he is,” Zack says, his voice laced with amusement, “Or will be shortly.”

Charlie’s eyes widen on the all-American looking blonde boy like he’s a piece of meat, “Ooo, Zack, you’re useful.” She hops in place sending her ponytail bouncing, “Wanna play?”

Zack’s eyes narrow slightly as his suspicious nature rises up, “Play what?”

“Charlie games, of course.” She tilts her head and grins, as she glides her fingers up his chest. “I just want the ‘D’ Zack.”

Briefly switching his gaze towards Ty, Zack shrugs, “Sure, I’m game.”

“Shweet!” Charlie grabs Zack’s hand and drags him off down the hall. In the morning she knows the stage is completely deserted and dark. A perfect place to score a point, number three for the morning.

Dragging Zack inside, she starts roaming her hands up his shirt, while nipping at his lips. To her surprise the moans of someone else stops her. Scowling, she throws back a curtain to see Asher with two girls plastered up against the wall fucking them.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” she grinds out, irritated with the fact that not only has Asher German taken one of her favorite spots, but he’s scored two more points this morning, bringing his total too fourteen. This is the second time, the girl has run into him at school hoping to score herself, only to find him already at it with someone else. The boy is good. Too good. She truly thought she had the win in the bag. “I’m going to have to stop doing my every day, and actually work for it,” she grumbles to herself.

Dragging Zack off, Charlie claims her point in a different secluded spot, slipping in with a couple of other guys throughout the day, and sends pics to Asher. When she walks into her sixth period, art, she plops down and pulls out the blank paper she’s supposed to be working on. The assignment is to pick out a picture from a magazine Mr. Crumble assigned, and sketch it. She spent yesterday just staring between the picture of a Great White Shark and the giant white paper.

As students file in she starts outlining the shark. To her dismay, it looks more like a giant lemon than the fierce beast of the sea.

Groaning she drops her head to the table. “I’m going to fail this class.”

“Yes, art requires something on that blank paper,” Asher annoyingly retorts as an aboriginal tribe seems to leap off his paper.

Charlie sits up and looks at his drawing then back to hers a couple of times, before giving him a deadpan stare.

“I have something on my paper,” she grumbles as she erases the faint lines. Trying again she comes up with an even fatter lemon than before. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Make a long oval and then taper off at one end to make a point. Break it down into simple shapes.”

“I hate drawing. I appreciate others’ talent, but fucking hate doing it.” She grumbles trying again, coming up with a skinny tube. Rolling her eyes she draws a triangle on top, a cartoonish smile, and labels it ‘Shark, by Charlotte E. Montgomery’ before slamming the pencil down.

“Drawing is easy, it just takes practice,” Asher flashes his ice blue eyes up at her, “And patience.”

“Says the man that has the talent of Picasso. I know four languages, play the piano and guitar, cheer, play volleyball and tennis. Plus I am amazing on a skateboard and have some other talents I’m not going to tell you about. So, let’s just say art isn’t my thing.”

“Congratulations, someone cares enough to spend money and time on you. I lack both and Picasso is abstract, I don’t draw abstract.”

Charlie’s lips thin as her eyes turn dark as she closes herself off. “Got me all figured out then, I see.”

“If that were the case I’d find you very boring, little fox. Bragging like that in front of my brother wouldn’t go well for you, best keep that in mind. Some of us are lucky to get meals more than once a day and these supplies,” he nods towards his art set, “Are stolen.”

“Wasn’t bragging. My parents didn’t pay for all of it,” she mutters as she pulls a notebook out of her backpack.

Flipping his page over Asher lifts his hand up, palm up in expectation, “Give me your stretch pad.”

She slides it over to him, before returning to her notebook, scribbling away.

Sitting sideways with his leg propped up on the table Asher’s hand glides over her sketchbook only stilling when he grabs another color. Every now and then he glances up at her only to snap it shut and toss it to her when the bell’s about to ring. “Practice and patience.” With that he stuffs all his art supplies back into his bag and stands as the bells chimes to head out for German.

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