Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
I pop a hard caramel candy in my mouth. “I didn’t say they were nice, Cobalt boy.”
“I hope you rethink your whole life and take your skank ass vagina to the sewer you came from.”
“That one did almost make me laugh.”
He’s not cracking even an itsy-bitsy smile. Instead, he’s deleting the emails for me. “Are they jumping in your socials too?”
“Nope. They haven’t found me there. My usernames are too creative, and I think it helps I don’t post a ton of face pics.” His concentration hasn’t let up on erasing the emails. “Friend—I will survive.”
“This doesn’t bother you?” He hands me my phone when he’s finished.
I shrug. “People suck. A tale as old as time. I feel worse for Xander, honestly. It can’t be easy having these types of fans breathing down your neck and affecting your actual life. It’s toxic parasocial relationships. All one-sided and obsessive.” I adjust my slipping backpack. “Me, on the other hand, all I have to do is make a new email. Which will be a pain, sure, but it’s not like people are crying about who my next hookup might be.”
“Don’t count me out, Fisher,” he teases.
I bite on the caramel candy, my heart going unsteady the longer our gazes latch. “You’ll cry if it’s not you?”
“Definitely.” He sounds serious, but the light in his eyes never dulls. He checks me out a little bit, and heat bathes my cheeks.
“Odds are in your favor,” I flirt back.
Ben has a softer smile. I can tell something is on his mind, and I’m about to ask when he says, “Where are we headed?”
We.
He’s also freeing my sliding backpack from my shoulder. He slings it on his, carrying it for me.
“Library.” I hope I don’t sound too breathless. “I need to get Metamorphoses. I searched the database, and it hasn’t been checked out yet.”
He glances at his watch. “One hour before your 1:50 lab.” He’s memorized my schedule, a known fact that still levitates me in a weird way. “Looks like I’m yours for sixty minutes.”
That’s not even close to long enough. Before befriending Ben, I would’ve been shocked if he gave me thirty seconds. Asking for more feels greedy, but I’m ravenous for each minute, each sunny hour.
So when we reach the library together, I soak in the seconds with him. He’s such a jock shaking up his peanut butter protein concoction, casting smiles down at me. I think, in part, to try to beckon one out of me.
It works once or twice.
The librarian lets him in with the drink because he offers to dump it first. Being honest and kind does play to Ben’s favor a lot of the time. People always seem to give him what he wants in the end.
It reminds me of his meet-up with Leif today. “What’s the prognosis with the frat?” I ask, more hushed. “Are you a Kappa now?”
The second story of the cathedral-like library is dead quiet and also mostly empty of students. Barely any light shines through moody stained-glass windows. Bookshelves tower to the domed ceiling, and Ben follows me between two of them.
I crouch to read the spines. He hasn’t answered me, and fear squeezes my stomach. “Did they mess with you?”
“No.” He makes a face like I am very far off. His lips tic up. “Were you worried they would?”
“You against all of Kappa? Yeah, kind of.”
He rests an elbow on the shelf way above me. “I have a way with frats.” There isn’t much arrogance in his tone. He speaks like it’s just a fact. “But it’s not going to work out with Kappa Phi.”
I brush my fingers over the spines as my face falls. I’d really been hoping they’d offer him a place to stay. No other options seemed good enough to pursue. “Because…?” I drag out a dusty hardback.
He downs a gulp of shake, then clears his throat to say, “They want me to complete a bet that’s been in the frat for a decade. If I don’t, I can’t live there as a sophomore.”
“So let’s complete the bet,” I say with more optimism. I’m already including myself because he’s joined Team Harriet before I even handed him the sign-up sheet, and I’m clamoring for the opportunity to be there for Ben too.
“No.” He’s shaking his head.
My thighs ache in a squat, so I kneel. “You aren’t going to tell me what it is?”
Ben slides his fingers through his hair, a groan caught in his throat. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to scratch my eyeballs out and throw them down the stairs.”
“Is it hurting your warm blue heart?”
“More like it’s making me want to push inside you and watch you come.”
Holy fuck…I’d say that came out of nowhere, but his groan had been a hoarse, turned-on one. My breath staggers, and I can’t formulate words. We haven’t fooled around since the one time at his brothers’ apartment. We haven’t even kissed, and seeing as how there is a time stamp on his life in New York, I can’t determine whether it’ll ever happen.