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)
As we make the short drive to the parking lot behind Student Hall, Sevan starts to grill me.
“The pictures have looked good with your guy. How’s that going?”
“It’s fucking awful.”
“Hm? Not all sunshine and roses after your first fake week?”
I grip the steering wheel as I turn into the parking space. “He barely speaks to me, other than to coordinate photos for social media. We need to be seen together in person to make anything believable, but he’s avoiding me.”
Sevan snorts. “That’s the opposite problem of most of your exes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You end up with obsessive stalkers, yet your current fake boyfriend doesn’t even want to spend time with you?”
“Do me a favor and shut the fuck up, will you?” I say, with only a loving tone in my voice.
“Sorry. It’s just kind of funny.”
“Funny sad. Funny pathetic.”
“Why does it matter? He’s the one who wants the fake boyfriend so badly. Doesn’t really affect you if he’s being cagey.”
I exhale a slow breath, turning the key in the ignition and sliding it out.
“Oliver just… bothers me. He always has. There’s something about him that has always seemed specifically designed to irritate me. Back when we played hockey against each other, I wanted to punch him every time I saw his face.”
“Sounds like you were the obsessive one.”
Sevan is grinning at me.
“If you weren’t already injured, I’d hurt you right now, Sevan.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“Let’s just get inside.”
I help Sevan onto the chair and we head in.
I push his wheelchair down the long corridor in Student Hall, following the signs that point toward the ballroom.
“I’ve still never been in the main ballroom.”
“It’s one of the best places on the Crimson campus. Part of why I’m so pissed I can’t dance this year at the formal.”
He points toward the end of the hall.
When we arrive, the room is far bigger and grander than I expected.
The ceiling is spectacularly tall carved wood, dotted with chandeliers. It looks like a ballroom out of a fantasy novel, the kind of thing I always hated before I came to Crimson.
I probably would still hate things like this if I didn’t associate them with Ollie, now.
There are tons of students in here, all of them helping with setup for the formal. People are on ladders hanging up white paper lanterns and shimmery tinsel, others are hanging things on the wall, or setting up tables in one portion of the room.
I spot Oliver on the far end of the room, under a tall window. He’s next to Weston and they’re working on unraveling tons of sets of string lights.
“Hi, babe,” I call out to him as we head over.
Oliver turns to see me.
He’s wearing a cream-colored sweatshirt that hugs the curves of his muscles perfectly, and tan pants that show off his ass in an obscene way.
Or maybe I just always notice his ass.
His eyes go wide before he furrows his brow.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too.” I lean in and press a slow kiss to his lips, making sure it’s good even though I should punish him for the attitude.
His kisses are always good. Even if he’s only doing it because Weston is nearby.
“Came to help out with the setup,” I tell him, watching his expression shift as he realizes I’m not going anywhere.
Knew that would take you by surprise.
“We’re good. You don’t need to help.”
“Niko!” Weston says brightly, heading over to wave at me. “This is awesome. We need another hand for these lights.”
“Glad to be here. How can we help?”
Weston’s expression changes when he looks down at Sev.
Like there’s something harsh in the air between them, but he won’t acknowledge it.
“Sevan,” Weston says, giving him a curt nod. “I didn’t know you knew Niko.”
And thank God my cousin’s here.
There’s at least one person in here who can get me to keep my sanity.
Maybe.
Sev mentioned that Weston had some problems with him last year, but I have no idea how deep that bad blood goes.
They certainly don’t regard each other in any friendly way.
Sevan nods. “Yes, Weston. Of course I know Niko. You’re looking at the man who corrupted me.”
I click my tongue. “That is complete bullshit. Sevan corrupted me, and we both know it.”
He gives me a look. “How did I corrupt you?”
“I was perfectly innocent until you started stealing cigarettes and peer pressuring me into smoking them with you when we were a goddamn preteen.”
Sev rolls his eyes. “I was older than that. Peer pressuring you? You’re the one who begged me to steal them, then spent hours taking pictures of yourself smoking like you thought you were James Dean.”
I grin. “Those pictures were cool, even though I’m glad I quit. Still. Anyway. Yes, Sevan was a badass long before I was.”
He taps the armrests of his chair like they’re drums. “I was also the reason you got your first tattoo.”