Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
It pisses me off.
The poor girl has no clue what Hunter Knox is really like.
“You think he’s telling her about his knife collection while he rubs her back like that?” I ask, and for the first time tonight, Weston cracks a smile. “She’ll be in for a rude awakening if she ever finds out what he’s really like.”
It feels strange coming out of my mouth.
I’m never the type to gossip.
I’m above gossiping, and it gives me a bitter feeling in my stomach to say anything like that, even about Hunter.
About any Onyx member.
At the end of last year they gave out some awards during a little ceremony before summer. I got “most inclusive,” because most of the time, that’s true. Usually, I try to be kind to everyone.
Hunter brings strange things out of people, though.
I watch his hands on that girl with bitter rage flaring in my chest.
Wish it was your hands on my shoulders, Knox.
At least I’d get the opportunity to punch you for it.
“Nope. That girl is gayer than you are, Rayne,” Oliver tells me. “She told Wes about her butterflies, but she told me about all the girls she wants to hook up with.”
Great.
So I’m not just a gossip, I’m wrong about it, too.
“How have your classes been going, Ollie?” I ask him, because I desperately need a subject change.
“Pretty good. Did any of you guys have Prof Nevins last year? I swear he’s trying to fucking fail us out with how much homework he gives.”
I get lost in the conversation, and I refuse to look up at Hunter for the rest of the evening.
10
Hunter
There’s a reason why I don’t usually tell people about my personal shit, and it’s because I hate the feeling I’ve been flooded with today.
Like I have an emotional hangover.
Like I want to put my fist through a fucking wall, or sink my knife into something that bleeds.
I haven't been avoiding Rayne since I spilled my guts to him about Lune yesterday, but I sure as fuck don’t want to be around him today, either.
I’ve had enough pity stares in my life. I don’t need any more from him.
Dinner with Briar was a good distraction until I saw the Onyx boys rolling in and taking up a long table to themselves.
Rayne looked fucked up, but in a good way.
His hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a white T-shirt that only made his biceps look better.
But unless he’s naked, on his knees, and begging to suck my cock, there’s no chance in hell I should be looking at Rayne like that, anyway.
You confuse my cock, but you’re not getting anywhere close to me.
No one gets to do that.
I say goodbye to Briar soon after, because she’s got a date with some girl tonight and she’s all nervous and stressed about it. I head outside and look down at my phone to find a text that only takes this night from bad to worse.
Barrett Knox: Call me. I’m back from my client retreat in Belize.
Crickets chirp all across the quad as I read the text from my father, but I know I need to return his call.
The only person I like even less than Weston is our father.
But he also controls everything.
The company we stand to inherit, as well as our own purse strings, until we turn 25. Until then, I have to fake respect for him. Kiss ass. And bide my time until Weston and I either hit 25 or one of us inherits Dad’s company, and then I can burn every remaining bridge between me and my family.
I dial his number as I walk down a path, heading away from Colossus dining hall.
“Hunter,” he answers in his deep baritone.
“Dad.”
“How does it feel to finally be a Crimson?”
I can hear his smug smile and the I-told-you-so in his voice.
Dad always wanted me to attend Crimson College, just like he did. Only Weston followed in his footsteps, though. I went off to London, where I would still be, if I hadn’t fucked with a goddamn crime family and had to flee.
“Crimson College is entertaining.” Not what he wants to hear, but it’s sort of the truth.
I walk past a stone fountain, wishing the rush of water would drown out my father’s words a little better.
“I trust you’ll take your studies seriously now that you’re where you ought to be. Weston will keep you on track. He might finally have the edge on you. His grades improved last year.”
Always making it a competition between us.
Even still.
“My courses seem challenging.”
A group walks past me, and one student bumps into me with his backpack without even offering a sorry.
“Watch yourself,” I mutter softly.
He turns around and gives me the finger. “Walk faster next time.”
Fucking spoiled prick.
I’m spoiled too, but not like some of the people here.
I can feel my hand tense up around the phone.