Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
But I like taking care of my body. For me, having rice at all is a splurge.
Hunter and Niko start talking to Sev about some new racing video game, and I relax a little.
Just going to ignore him.
I chat with Noah for a while, shooting the shit about his week.
“Fuck, she’s here,” Noah murmurs a minute later as I’m taking a long sip of water, and I look up to follow his gaze.
Stephanie Kim is sitting a few tables over looking like she’s ready for a ballroom more than a campus dining hall. Her dress is glimmering gold and her long black hair is up, with tendrils framing either side of her face.
She broke Noah’s heart a few days ago.
Just like his heart was “broken” a couple of weeks before that.
And about a dozen other times this semester, ever since he started trying to date rather than just have sex with every girl at Crimson College.
“Flashy dress,” I tell Noah.
He looks at her with a sad puppy expression. “She looks like a fucking supermodel. God, I fucked up so bad.”
I give Noah a squeeze on the shoulder. “Bro. You’re better without her.”
He groans, shaking his head. “I’m cooked, dude.”
Everyone can tell that women don’t trust Noah’s fuckboy reputation anymore. It turns out that when Noah falls for someone, he falls hard. But girls keep dropping him like a hotcake the second he tries to get close.
He slides something metal out of his jacket pocket and a moment later, he’s pouring amber liquid from a flask into his fountain soda.
“Jesus, Noah,” I say softly. “It’s Thursday night.”
“And? Rum tastes good on Thursdays, too. My dad’s girlfriend Kolina gave this to me as a gift last week when I visited home. She’s Danish.”
“Rum isn’t exactly a Scandinavian liquor.”
Noah glances at me. “I think my dad is obsessed with her, though.”
“Is this the woman who has the son our age?”
“Unfortunately,” Noah says. “And I fucking hate him.”
I hum. “If your dad marries her, you know what that means.”
“Don’t even say it—”
“Stepbrother,” I tease Noah. “Hope you’re ready for one.”
Noah gives me a shove and when I look up afterward, I see Sev’s gaze land on the same area, like he’s wishing he was shoving me, instead.
“If that guy ends up being my stepbrother, I’ll put a bullet in both of us,” Noah mumbles.
“What’s his name again?”
“Torin. Torin Jensen. Stupid name. His dad was Irish and his mom is a Danish model, and that’s why my dad is drooling for her.”
“I think that’s kind of a cool name, actually.”
He starts dumping more rum in his drink until I reach out and catch his wrist. “Go easy on yourself. Here.” I shove my tall water in front of him. “You can’t drink that unless you drink this first.”
“Okay, Frat Dad,” he says dryly, but at least he chugs half of the water.
I keep an eye on Noah and catch the conversation that Rayne and Ollie are having about the alumni dinner coming up. The secret societies always treat the event like it’s a Hunger Games level competition, seeing who can win the favor of the richest, most successful alumni and secure jobs and internships.
And ever since I joined Onyx, we’ve won just about everything.
Last year, it was markedly favored to Onyx, though, even more than usual. We’re used to being successful, but every available position went to someone from Onyx Society.
I’ve heard that Daggers guys have their suspicions that my father may have had something to do with that.
They think my dad pulled strings.
Bribed people.
But I’ve never believed those claims.
I know my father was a horrible man before he died, but I refuse to believe that he had a hand in manipulating that many CEOs last year.
This year we have to be very careful.
Even though the bribery claims are false, we still need to make it right for the other societies this year. Ensure that another war doesn’t start.
“The alumni dinner held in the same hall as the winter formal, right?” Ollie asks.
I nod. “But it looks nothing like the formal. They transform it into a big, glitzy room with white-tablecloth dinner tables and a stage for alumni to give speeches. It ends up looking like the Academy Awards.”
“And people party,” Noah says. “The right people do, at least. I always sneak in a little something.”
Noah holds up his flask and gives it a shake.
Ollie reaches over to fist-bump Noah, but all I feel is concern for him at this point.
“And some of us don’t get blasted,” I add.
We start exchanging ideas for how to get access to the wealthiest and most exclusive people, and I fall into a groove with the guys and even get Noah to cheer up a little bit, back to his normal joking self rather than being depressed over yet another girl.