Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 48

Marguerite speared a piece of dragon fruit, her vibrant eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Pinecrest High had always promoted a balance between work and play. It seemed that tradition was still alive and well.

She nibbled on her fork and typed a reply: [Is Joseph playing?]

Cedric responded quickly: [Yeah, he’s the team captain.]

Marguerite was surprised. Joshua’s little brother was quite the overachiever—a star athlete and a top student. Joshua himself had always been at the bottom of his class. It seemed the family had written off their first attempt and decided to get it right with the second.

If Joseph was playing, she had to be there. In the heat of a basketball game, with testosterone flying, teenage boys were prone to conflict.

[Who’s Pinecrest playing against?] she asked.

Cedric: [Westside High. You know, the one with the terrible academic record.]

Marguerite typed with one hand: [Okay, see you then!]

“Hiss—”

A soft, sharp intake of breath snapped Marguerite out of her thoughts. She looked up.

The handsome man sitting beside her had a slight frown on his face, his dark eyes fixed on the coffee table. Marguerite followed his gaze.

She saw a pale, elegant hand, a green Patek Philippe watch gracing the wrist. Further down, the back of his hand was smooth and white, with faint blue veins adding a touch of masculine appeal.

And currently sticking out of it was a silver metal fork.

Marguerite’s eyes widened. She quickly pulled her hand back and saw two small, bleeding puncture marks on his perfect skin.

For a second, her world stopped.

Oh, hell. I have the strength of a gorilla.

She had been texting and stabbing at her fruit at the same time, and instead of fruit, she had stabbed George’s hand. He had a habit of cutting up fruit to eat while he worked, and she always helped herself to some.

Now, not only was fruit off the table, but she was probably about to be kicked out of the house.

Clang.

Marguerite flung the fork ten feet across the room.

He said that, but he made no move to pull his hand away. Though his heart was pounding in his ears, he wanted her to hold on for just a little longer.

This was the first time Marguerite had ever drawn blood, and she was panicking. “Are you sure? It looks pretty bad!”

George’s gaze was fixed on her delicate, porcelain face, watching her long lashes flutter. His voice softened. “Really, it’s fine. We just need to put some antiseptic on it.”

Marguerite looked up at him. “Where is it? I’ll go get it.”

It was only then that she noticed the handsome, refined man was blushing. His ears were bright red, as if they were about to drip blood. Her eyes flickered. She realized she was still clutching his hand.

Wait, he’s a twenty-nine-year-old man, and he’s blushing because I’m holding his hand?

What an innocent soul! she thought, but she didn’t let go. She had caused the injury; she had to take responsibility.

George glanced toward the TV stand, then shook his head. “We don’t have any here. I’ll order some.”

Marguerite grabbed a tissue and gently dabbed at the blood. “I’ll order it. Don’t move your hand.”

She carefully placed his hand on the sofa and opened a delivery app on her phone. After more than a week, she was already quite accustomed to the modern world.