Tag (Game of Crows #1) Read Online Natalie Bennett

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, College, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Game of Crows Series by Natalie Bennett
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Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
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I wasn’t exaggerating when I thought her blue eyes practically sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights. She was the kind of beautiful that felt untouchable. Sun-kissed skin, full lips, and a body that women paid top dollar for. I didn’t hate her for it. How could I?

“Got any plans tonight?” I already knew her answer, yet I asked anyway. I was a glutton for punishment, apparently.

She bit her lower lip, trying and failing to suppress a sheepish grin. “Ryder’s.”

I smiled. “You two are so cute.” The words didn’t feel untrue, exactly, but they scraped against something raw inside me.

Brooke’s face lit up like sunlight reflecting off glass. “Thanks, Sanj.” Then, hesitantly, “Has he said much about us?”

Her question stopped me mid-motion, my hand freezing on my locker door. I turned to her, caught off guard. This was the first time she’d ever asked me about him—them. “He doesn’t really talk to me about his…uh, your relationship,” I answered carefully.

Her expression faltered. “He doesn’t?”

There was a hint of hurt in her tone. Shit, I should’ve lied. No, that would’ve been worse. There were parts of Ryder’s life I purposely avoided unless he brought them to me directly, despite wanting to know every detail. But it wasn’t like I sat around filling him in on me and Ashton’s relationship either. That area of conversation had become a minefield lately, not just with Ryder but with the others too. Sometimes it felt like they were still wrapping their heads around the idea of me having a boyfriend at all, let alone being in an actual relationship.

This thing with Brooke and Ryder made me understand exactly how they felt. They’d been together almost as long as Ashton and I had, a few months now. It was clearly more than a passing fling. I was used to Ryder getting attention, used to girls orbiting him. He rarely entertained it, and when he did, it was never serious. There’d only been one other official girlfriend that I could remember, and a few bed buddies here and there. Nothing that lasted or stuck. He wasn’t a playboy, not by a long shot, but he also didn’t do exclusivity or labels either.

Until her.

Did that mean she was different?

Did that mean she was it?

Was Ryder falling in love with Brooke?

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or shove the thought out of my head before it could splinter me any further. I’d never asked these questions before. I kept how I felt to myself and hoped no one would notice. Something that had progressively gotten harder to do. Still, I was the architect of my own misery, so I forced it down like usual, buried it beneath the pressure in my chest, and then gave Brooke a smile, careful and practiced.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you specifically, Brooke. We just don’t really discuss that kind of stuff,” I explained, keeping my tone light as I opened my locker and grabbed a fresh change of clothes from my cheer bag.

The last thing I wanted was for her to feel bad, or worse, ask more questions. She nodded; her expression subdued. I took the opportunity to move this uncomfortable conversation along as I slipped on my bra and shirt. “So, do you two have any plans tonight?”

She seemed to brighten again at the question. “Nothing but the usual. I’m not sure what we’re doing for dinner yet, but do you want to come along?”

“No, I need some one-on-one time with Ash.”

Not entirely a lie.

I finished dressing and headed toward the sinks, where soft overhead lights glowed against sleek, silver-framed mirrors. Everything about the locker room radiated quiet power and luxury, Crowsfell’s signature etched into every surface, from the obsidian marble countertops to the barely noticeable emblem worked into the corners of the mirror trim: a crow perched over a skull, its wings outstretched.

I unzipped my toiletry bag and pulled out my wide-tooth comb, fingers moving through my familiar routine without much thought behind it. I stared at my reflection, trying to see myself through an objective lens.

Straight, ink-black hair that reached the center of my back, dark, round eyes with flecks of gold, and warm brown skin that was too rich to pass as solely Italian, too blended to be distinctly Indian. I’d never felt the need to fit neatly into either box. My family had always taught me to embrace both sides of who I was without choosing one over the other. As for my body, I wasn’t petite or delicate. My curves were toned, and my muscles were defined from years of cheer and training.

It was ridiculous to compare myself, completely insane, actually. I knew I was pretty. Not vainly or arrogantly, but in the quiet, hard-won way that comes from finally accepting the woman you’re becoming.

That hadn’t always been the case, especially when insecurity whispered the loudest, and I felt like I took up more space than I deserved. Sometimes, those whispers still came, and lately they liked to remind me that Brooke was everything I wasn’t. She was light and sweet and uncomplicated. Her only flaw, if you could call it that, was her being a little too sweet for my best friend.


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