Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I told him to fuck off.
And rolled up my sleeves.
Weston naturally had a stick up his ass for weeks afterward. He said I “sabotaged the car wash,” lost us a customer, and made a bad reputation for Crimson College and the secret societies in general. But I don’t kiss ass for strangers when they treat me like a peasant, especially when I was only trying to help with the Mustang.
“Can’t say I regret what I did.”
Noah nods. “I’m gonna go find something else to drink,” he says. “Maybe water.”
“Sounds like a very good plan.”
As he walks out I catch a glance of the big, leather-bound planner that Noah always keeps.
There’s a part written in green ink, right along the top of the day the alumni dinner is happening:
VIP - Private table - Onyx Only. Talk with Roman and Wes beforehand.
I don’t know what that means.
I also don’t want to know.
And if Kieran caught word of anything close to bribery happening in Onyx House…
My chest clenches as I walk out onto Red Row and I’m shocked to find a light dusting of snow over everything.
It’s as if spring has surrendered back into winter for a day. The sky is muted gray, and my shoes crunch over the coating of white on the sidewalk.
When I arrive back at the Daggers house, I don’t go to Kieran.
Not yet.
Because even if the Onyx guys aren’t bribing anyone, just the prospect of that could be enough to make things very ugly.
11
Weston
You still sore?
I look down at my phone in my lap, glancing at it like I’m hiding a dirty habit.
“And that’s exactly why in 1791, France wrote its first official constitution,” Dr. Sellwood is saying at the front of the classroom. She may as well be lecturing about paint drying right now, despite the fact that I’ve always found history classes interesting before.
All I can see right now are Sev’s eyes, looking up at me from the desk beside Dr. Sellwood’s podium at the front of the class.
I navigate over to my texts with Noah instead, shooting one off. He’s sitting in the seat next to me, and I cut him a glance after sending it.
Wes: I fucking hate Mondays.
Noah: I love them. I need all the fresh starts I can get.
Bad weekend?
Heinous. My dad might actually marry Kolina.
You ready for a stepbrother, Noah? Torin will be there on your big family vacations… in your guys’ house for summer break… at breakfast and dinner whenever you’re back home…
Why me, dude? Why me?
I hide a smile behind my hand and try to pay attention to the lecture again. Every time I watch the professor walk over toward the side of the class where Sev is, I keep my eyes locked on her, and never on him.
I can’t bring myself to look Sev in the eye right now.
My mind has been betraying me ever since the party, when I woke up the next morning and found the other side of the bed empty.
It was like a fog permeated every thought ever since.
What would it be like, if Sev actually was willing to date anyone?
What would he be like as a boyfriend?
Pointless thoughts. Practically everyone on the goddamn campus knows that Sevan wants a relationship as much as he wants a gun to his head. He’d prefer the gun, actually.
But I have some sick thing in my brain that makes me envision every perfect future I could have with someone the moment I get a hint of a crush, and apparently it happens even for people I should utterly despise, like Sev. I used to do it with girls, back in high school. I barely even knew what I wanted back then, but I’d still picture it all.
White goddamn picket fences.
Two kids.
Stupid shit like cuddling on the couch at night watching movies, or kissing my partner before bed. I’ve wanted a quiet, easy kind of love for my entire life, probably because I’ve never had anything like that before. I crave it, like an ache in my bones.
It’s not like I fall head over heels for everyone I meet like Noah does, but…
I fantasize.
Too much.
And every tender fantasy is fucking laughable when it comes to Sevan.
My phone buzzes again and I shift in my uncomfortable wooden desk chair, blinking back into reality as Dr. Sellwood still lectures about something at the front of class.
And this time it’s a text from Sev, poking at me again.
Sev: I’ll take that as a yes. You have to still be sore with the way you took all of me.
I’m trying to pay attention. The exam is next week.
I’ll tutor you privately if you’re worried about the material. Right now I want you to tell me if you’re still sore.
My ass is fine.
And what about your throat?
My cock betrays me, thickening under my desk.