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)
Still, I have trouble not imagining Ben thrusting inside me. I get hot just picturing his erection between my legs. Our sex quest has yet to be completed. Fall midterms and his hovering brothers have been majorly in the way since the bar fiasco. Ben could sense my exam stress, and he hasn’t wanted to be a reason I fail a course.
So right now, I can’t even reminisce on the reality of Ben fucking me. This is purely a tormenting fantasy.
I’m thwarted out of my carnal thoughts when a girl in pink overalls rushes over and grabs Venus’ arm. “Xander Hale is here.”
Venus lets out a soft gasp. “He actually made it?”
“Wait,” Ben holds out a hand. “Xander Hale is here?”
I feel unsteady on my feet, and I haven’t even taken a sip of my punch. Am I competing for an Honors House spot with Xander fucking Hale? I might as well go home.
“Yeah, his friend is a candidate,” Venus tells us.
His friend.
Okay, so maybe I’m not competing against Xander. But I’m assuming the friend in question is Easton Mulligan, and is he any better? He’s a chess champion and Xander Hale’s best friend. In my head, being Ben Cobalt’s friend trumps being Xander’s, but I know not everyone feels that way. I am so fucking biased.
By the deep frown contorting Ben’s face, I think he’s gauging the worrisome levels of tonight. His hand slips to the small of my back as Venus and Pink Overalls hightail it down the hall.
“Isn’t Halloween a Hale thing?” I ask Ben. “Since it’s the Loren Hale’s birthday. Xander’s dad.” I realize how this sounds. “Whiiiich is your uncle.” I nod to myself. “You know this already, but okay, last I talked to Xander, he said he might go home to celebrate with the fam.”
“Yeah, sometimes we all do, but my uncle just had a big fiftieth last Halloween. So this year is more lowkey. There isn’t a giant party. Everyone in New York stayed here.” Ben is grimacing at a thought.
“This is bad, right?” I ask him into a sip of punch. My prospects of being an Honors House member have shot downward.
He expels an annoyed breath. “Why wouldn’t Easton say anything about applying for the Honors House? We see him at Board Game Club.”
I shrug. “It’s not like I mentioned it to him.” I wrack my brain. “I don’t know if I’ve even told Xander…”
Ben’s brows catapult. “Really? It’s been your biggest goal since the start of semester.”
“I don’t advertise my goals on loudspeaker. You know…in case I don’t achieve them. And that reminds me, is Charlie showing up?”
His hand drops off my back to skate through his hair, smoothing down the wavy strands. “No. I lied and told Guy Abernathy that I could get Charlie to come. It sealed the deal for your invite. But I’m going to make an excuse for Charlie, don’t worry about it. It won’t look poorly on you.” His eyes flit down the hall. He touches my shoulder. “I’m going to go find Xander and clear things up. You…mingle.”
“Mingle,” I say into a nod. “Right.” I do need to pull my weight here. Ben can only do so much, and I need to remember this is an interview masquerading as a Halloween party.
He peels away from my side to venture down the hall, and I meander through the different rooms—a den with a roaring fireplace, a two-story library, an art room filled with pottery wheels and easels, a study room with four giant whiteboards—trying to find one of the eleven members. Hopefully not all of them are clustered around Easton and Xander.
Slipping into the kitchen, I encounter a small group huddled around a plate of cookies, which I am immediately told are marijuana cookies. The two Honors House members are baked when they greet me.
Elijah and Kiki seem open to chatting with me, and I do my best for what feels like twenty minutes. They were both valedictorians at their private schools. Kiki is an aerospace engineering major and has been dreaming of working for NASA since she was five. Elijah has his sights on a doctorate degree in theoretical physics. It’s in his genes, he tells me. His grandfather was nominated for a Nobel Prize in physics for discovering the surface plasmon.
I feel underequipped here. I’ve never talked about myself like they’re talking about themselves. So easily listing off their accolades and goals as if they’re chatting about their favorite books. And I won’t lie—they sound pretentious as hell. Boastful. Maybe even vain, but it’s not rubbing me the wrong way.
A fine line exists between confidence and arrogance. I wish I just didn’t give a fuck about accidentally overinflating myself. They clearly don’t.
Not caring what other people think is a mightier drug than the pot cookies. I’d love to be high on it.