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)
I have the hood of my black sweatshirt up, and the crowd is dense enough that I can hang out in the periphery and not be seen.
They take their time.
They stop at every booth, checking out the shelves full of stuffed animals and trinkets they could win at the ring toss, and looking at some stands full of Crimson College merch.
Rayne smiles.
Points out a particular stuffed animal shark to Oliver.
Does a little dance when one of his favorite songs comes on.
He’s acting so… normal.
In a way he never does when he’s with me. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.
Rayne’s been avoiding me since that night.
He won’t say it, but he is.
I’ve tailed him around campus as much as I can, but as the semester ramps up, I also need to study more for my European History class, because I’m not about to let my grades slip and get kicked out of Crimson.
Rayne’s been hanging out with Wes more this week than any other in the semester so far.
Like he’s trying to get back to normal.
And like he’s trying to only end up in our room late at night to catch some sleep and then head out early again the next morning.
I watch the guys head over to a stall selling fresh apple cider.
And then I watch as Wes slides a flask out of his back pocket and pours brown liquor into his cider cup, then offers some to Rayne.
Rayne gives himself a heavy pour of the alcohol, and they touch the paper cups together before taking a big swig.
So that’s the kind of night it’s going to be, huh, Rayne?
I’m only going to watch over him more closely if he’s planning on partying like that.
The guys loop around toward another row of games, and I walk beneath the canopy of trees nearby.
I keep my distance in the thick crowd of people, finding a tree to lean against as the guys start a round at the ring toss table.
“Hunter?” I hear from beside me and my skin prickles as I realize I’ve been noticed.
I turn and see Oliver, smiling sweetly and waving at me.
He heads down the little dirt path and stands next to me beneath the tree. Paper lanterns hang above us, casting a warm glow over his face.
He’s a good-looking guy, even though I’m not sure I could ever be attracted to a man other than Rayne.
“Ollie,” I say, giving him a nod.
“Not much of a fair kind of guy, I assume?” he asks.
I scan his face, trying to suss out why, exactly, he’s coming over here, and how the fuck he saw me in the first place.
“I’m more comfortable on the sidelines,” I tell him, though it’s not exactly the whole truth.
“God, I can relate to that,” he says, puffing out a shy laugh. He’s holding a cup of cider, which clearly is mostly whiskey thanks to Weston’s heavy pours. “I’ve been more social this semester than I’ve ever been in my life, but it’s not natural for me. Usually I’d be the guy sitting on a bench far away, so… I get it.”
I nod.
I don’t have the heart to tell Oliver that there isn’t a shy bone in my fucking body, and there never has been.
I’m on the edge because I need to be.
Not because I’m a wallflower.
But as far as I can tell, Oliver’s intentions are neutral.
Not everyone’s a fucking suspect, Knox.
“Enjoying the fair so far?” I ask him.
I’m no good at small talk, but I’ve seen Weston and my father do enough of it that I can fake it if I need to.
“It’s a lot,” Oliver says. “A lot of people, and I’m not great with crowds. But the quad looks beautiful. I wanted a moment to myself so I looked around the perimeter for a place to relax, then I saw you.”
“Seems like the entire student body showed up.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to write for the Confessional?”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
And I have to hold myself back from rolling my eyes.
“The Confessional’s a fucking joke.”
Already I know I’m being too blunt, because Ollie is clearly just a sweet, awkward freshman trying his best to make conversation.
Luckily, Oliver’s drunk enough that he may not remember me saying it.
But the moment I heard about the Confessional, I was pissed off.
It’s an Onyx Society tradition.
A tradition they’ve done once per semester, since Onyx was founded.
Once per semester, all of the guys get a little sheet of paper. Every guy needs to write down his darkest secret on the paper. And then everyone puts their anonymous secrets into a box, groups up together in candlelight in the front room of Onyx House, and the secrets are read out loud to the whole fraternity.
Otherwise known as… bullshit.
Pointless bullshit, meant to look like honesty.