Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I said yes because I’m stupid.
But also because I need it.
I need to get the fuck away from my old life because my ex has clearly decided to go full psycho. It’s safer here, and I’d rather choke on the barrel of a gun than ever live with Callum again.
Weston starts telling me excitedly all about the Onyx traditions, their values, and how much fun I’m going to have, and I feel like I’m suddenly plunged into a different world.
“The winter formal party is coming up soon,” Weston’s telling me now. “The first of the two big society winter parties.”
“Then there’s the New Year’s party a few weeks later,” Rayne adds.
“It’s the best,” Weston says with a smile. “Then, once spring comes, we do lots of charity events. Car washes, bake offs, speed dating.”
I do the mental calculations of the sheer amount of scheduling. All of this on top of trying to keep up passing grades in class?
As I stand here listening to Weston tell me all of the things I’ll need to participate in, it all starts to rush in.
Pressure.
Expectations.
This is the reason I avoided college. Why I moved in with my ex to begin with, hoping to start a career in modeling rather than ever stepping foot in a school again.
My hoodie suddenly feels too hot.
I pull it off, but even the T-shirt I’m wearing underneath feels cloying and tight.
Gripping on my skin.
Constraining me.
Like I can’t. Fucking. Escape.
I tell Weston I need a sec to myself, and I start to walk away. But across the room, it only takes another minute before things become colossally worse.
Oliver Ashford is here.
Oliver.
Oliver fucking Ashford.
When I see him at the corner of the room, it’s as if someone’s pushing on that deep, dark bruise until the skin fucking breaks.
My former high school hockey rival is apparently an Onyx member.
He’s in an expensive-looking dark blazer with a crisp white collared shirt underneath. I haven’t seen Oliver in nearly a year, and his light brown hair has grown out a little. He has natural sun-bleached highlights now, and he looks like he belongs in a catalog.
All fucking perfect, as usual.
I see him before he sees me, and for a split second I consider running.
Getting far away from here before Oliver realizes I’m here.
But he turns a moment later, and then those green eyes are on me.
And he comes closer.
He has the fucking nerve to approach me, after everything that happened?
Something fizzes in my blood.
The top few buttons of his fancy shirt are undone, and I can see a little constellation of freckles at the top of his chest. Little mottled brown marks, like someone flicked a paintbrush over his tan skin.
Memories flood back in, things that I thought I shoved away when high school came to a bitter end.
“Niko,” he says as he approaches me. “Was wondering when you’d get here.”
He’s tall.
Strong.
The shy, quiet version of Oliver Ashford has been replaced with someone who looks right at home among these elite frat jocks.
I cock my head to the side. “You knew I was coming?”
“Gotten in any fistfights yet?” he asks me. “Maybe out in the parking lot?”
I feel my fingers twitch.
I’m two seconds away from snapping.
Stay cool.
“And clearly you’re still thinking of shit I did back in high school. Obsessed with me much?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You punched someone because they told you I was better on the ice. Means you must have thought it was true.”
“He also hit me first. That parking lot fight was ages ago, and you can’t pretend you’re any better than me. You loved fighting back sometimes when I provoked you, too.”
Oliver shakes his head. “Okay. Let me try again,” he says as he holds out his hand to shake mine and flashes a smile. “Welcome to Onyx, Niko. I'm so glad to have you in the same house as me.”
I slowly reach out and shake his hand like we’re two cowboys shaking before a quick-draw pistol fight.
I hold his grip a little too long before I let it slide away.
“I get it,” I tell him. “You belong here, I don't. But I'm not going anywhere. You can quit acting like you’re any better than me.”
I try and fail to keep the acid from my tone.
“You can’t fight me here anyway, Niko.”
Fire surges through my chest as I see the cool, confident look on his face. “Is that right? You’re the one who keeps bringing it up. Try it. You know I’ll win.”
He looks me up and down. “Only reason you want to fight me is because you can’t admit you’d rather fuck me.”
I pause.
Oliver definitely has gotten bolder since high school, too.
“When did you become delusional, Ollie? Seems like when your looks changed, something got screwed up in your brain, too.”
He regards me with that unwavering, calm gaze. “I know I’m not delusional. I know you want to fuck me.”