Chapter 3
JACE
Jace: where the fuck are you?
Spare Parts: the boondocks
I pause walking and type out a response to my brother.
Jace: are you coming home tonight?
Spare Parts: no
I bite back a little huff of annoyance at the change of plans.
Jace: k
Spare Parts: you good?
Jace: peachy
Jace: have fun plowing Myles all night
Spare Parts: I plan to
Not waiting to see if Jax has more to say, I switch to my text thread with Killian and Felix.
Jace: what are you guys up to?
I stand there for a full thirty seconds like a moron, but neither of them answer, which is answer enough. They’re doing each other, as usual.
Biting my lip to deflect some of the anger rising in my chest, I text Xave.
Jace: you still busy with Nico?
He doesn’t read the text right away, and after another thirty seconds of waiting for him to answer, I shove my phone in my pocket and stalk down the hall.
I have no idea where I’m going or what I’ll get up to, but sitting alone in my room isn’t an option right now. Not unless I want to put my fist through the wall at the first minor inconvenience I have to deal with.
I don’t even know why I’m in such a bad mood tonight, but being abandoned by my entire family definitely isn’t helping me calm the fuck down.
Schooling my expression into my usual casual mask, I slow my steps so I’m walking like a normal person and not like a pissed off juggernaut on the lookout for someone to fuck with, and make a beeline for the end of the hall.
I should get a workout in or go to the cliffs or do something physical that keeps me away from people right now. That would be the smart thing to do.
Too bad there’s no one here to remind me that the smart choice is the right one.
Not bothering with the elevator, I push open the door to the stairwell and hurry down to the main floor of the house, adding a little extra stomp to each of my steps just so the echo is louder than usual.
I have no clue why, but that bit of extra noise helps soothe some of the restlessness brewing inside me, but I’m still pissed off when I get to the main floor.
Hamilton House is a giant Gothic-looking Victorian mansion with all the amenities of a state-of-the-art compound but with the charm of Dracula’s summer home.
The antique furniture and turn-of-the-century touches, like the many chandeliers and wall sconces that glow like they’re being lit by candles and not LED lightbulbs, give the dark wood floors and rich accents a luxurious and old-timey feel that’s as extra and ridiculous as everything else on campus.
The house is set up like most dorms, with the main floor made up of communal spaces like lounges and game rooms and study areas, and the dining hall, while the upper floors house our private rooms.
And just like any other frat or dorm, there are always guys hanging out in the common spaces, no matter what time of the day or night it is.
I pass by a group of guys playing a first-person shooter game in one of the many game rooms and another crowd huddled around a giant screen watching a hockey game in the lounge next to it.
I keep walking.
I’m not in the mood to pretend to give a shit about sports or a video game right now. I pass by a small group in one of the study rooms, but don’t stop, definitely not in the mood to study or read right now.
I’m almost on the other side of the building when laughter makes me pause. Inside is a group of guys sitting around a card table playing what looks like poker.
My gaze immediately falls on Shane, who’s staring intently at his cards and doesn’t seem to have noticed me.
Shane is an incredibly handsome guy with dark, chestnut hair that always looks a little wild thanks to the slight wave in it, and dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes. Pair those with his full lips, strong jawline and big, powerful body, and he’s hot as fuck.
But there’s something off about him tonight. It’s subtle, but there’s a tightness to his features that isn’t usually there, and his shoulders are higher than they typically are, like he’s tense about something.
One of the guys next to him says something, and the entire table laughs as another guy tosses down two cards and gets two replacements from the dealer.
Shane laughs along with everyone else, but it’s forced and unnatural, and his smile is clearly fake, even though he’s doing his best to cover it up.
This is exactly the kind of distraction I was looking for, and I veer into the room and head toward the table.
Shane glances up when I’m a few paces away, and his expression instantly shifts from fake amusement to real anger when he sees me.
I bite back my smile. Nice to know I still have the same effect on him.
“Hey,” Paxton greets as I stand between him and another guy named Dan so I’m directly across from Shane. Now he can’t ignore me.
“Hey.” I upnod Paxton and take a quick inventory of the table. Based on the varying sizes of the stacks of chips each guy has in front of them, and the impressive pile in the center of the table, they’ve been playing for a while.
“Texas Hold’em?” I ask.
Several of the guys nod as Paxton says, “Yup.”
“One,” another of the guys says and tosses a card onto the table, resuming the game.
I watch as they continue playing, not hiding how my gaze keeps landing on Shane.
He does his best to ignore me and keep his focus on the game, but I can see subtle signs of him growing more and more agitated the longer I stand there. And the big, beaming smiles I give him every time he looks up at me definitely don’t help with his mood, but they do wonders for mine.
Nothing like paying it forward and ruining some else’s night to make mine a little better.
The next five rounds go by quickly, with Shane winning three of them, and some of my ambivalence fades the longer I watch him play.
He’s good, and not just because he’s strategic and calculating. He’s a fucking champ at bluffing, and after six rounds, I still can’t figure out what his tell is, or if he even has one.
“Are you going to go?” Paxton asks Shane, who’s studying his cards intently.
“Yup.” Shane puts his cards face down on the table and pushes an entire stack of chips into the pot in the middle. “Call.”
“Fuck that.” The kid next to him tosses his cards on the table. “I’m out.”
“Fold,” the next guy says.
Dan tosses his cards down as well. “Yeah, too rich for my blood.”
Paxton pushes a stack of his chips into the middle. “Call.”
The next kid also folds, and the last guy, a first-year named Cody, confidently pushes what’s left of his chips into the pile. “All in.”
Shane shoots him a little smile and casually counts out the extra chips. “Call,” he says and drops his bet into the pile.
“I’m out.” Paxton tosses his cards down.
Cody shoots Shane a triumphant grin and reveals his cards. “Beat that.”
Shane looks at the flush on the table and gives Cody an innocent smile. “Wow, that’s a good hand.”
Cody lets out a whoop of joy and reaches for the pile.
A quick flash of movement catches my attention as everyone else turns their focus to Cody, and I have to bite my inner cheek so I don’t grin like a moron as Shane deftly slips a card from under the sleeve of his hoodie and switches it out with one in his hand.
The move was so fast and smooth I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t so hyperaware of him and tuned into his every movement.
“But not good enough.” Shane drops his cards on the table face up, revealing a royal flush.
“No fucking way!” Cody shouts, freezing with his hands hovering over the pile of chips in the middle of the table.
“Oh shit!” another of the guys calls at the same time the rest of the table erupts in laughter and a few cheers.
Shane just smiles serenely at Cody. “Like I said, that was a good hand. Just not good enough.”
Cody splutters something as Shane rakes the massive pile of chips toward himself, and his face goes a bit purple when Shane calmly starts organizing the pile into neat stacks in front of him.
The guys all start ribbing Cody about being the first one out, and I glance around the table. No one else seems to have noticed Shane’s little trick—or the fact that he just cheated.
“You want to buy in?” Paxton asks as Cody gets up and stomps out of the room.
“No way,” Dan shakes his head emphatically. “You can’t add a fresh player after we’ve already started. It’ll fuck everything up and give him an advantage.”
“He’s right,” Paxton says, a hint of an apology in his voice. “Sorry, man.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m good watching.”
“I bet you are,” Shane mumbles as he places the last of his chips onto a tall stack.
“What was that?” I ask Shane, my tone light and breezy.
He meets my gaze and gives me a little smirk. “Nothing.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yup.”
“Are you two still mortal enemies?” Dan looks between Shane and me. “This has to be a record for how long you’ve been in the same room without things devolving into violence.”
I shoot him a grin. “Mortal enemies sounds so dramatic. I’d say we’re more like frenemies, right, Shaney?”
“Bite me,” he grumbles.
“Only if you ask nicely.” I waggle my eyebrows at him in an exaggerated way that makes the rest of the guys laugh.
Everyone in the house, and most people at school, know I hook up with both men and women, and they’re used to my jokes.
For a school full of rich assholes who live within the walls of one of the world’s most exclusive secret societies in the world, people here are a lot less uptight about sexuality than what I had to deal with at my old boarding school.
It makes my life easier, and it also makes fucking with Shane easier, which is a win-win in my book.
“Don’t you have something heavy to lift or someone you need to annoy the fuck out of?” Shane asks.
“Why would I have something heavy to lift?” I ask, pretending to be confused by what he said. “That’s a very specific thing to try and insult me with.”
“Like weights or something…” He glances around the table, almost like he’s searching for an ally or someone to back up what he said. “Because you’re…”
“I’m what?” I ask with as much fake sweetness that I can muster.
He glares at me, his jaw working as he obviously bites back whatever retort he wants to say.
I grin at him. “Because I’m in incredible shape and I could bench you without breaking a sweat?”
“Ooooh, shots fired,” Paxton crows.
“Fuck off with that shit. You couldn’t bench me.” Shane levels another glare at me.
“How much do you weigh?” I ask.
“More than you can bench,” he shoots back.
“You sure about that? Because I’m lifting three-forty,” I say casually. “That seems like it might be a tad heavier than you.”
“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
“Believe whatever you want.” I shrug. “I’m not gonna lose any sleep over it.”
Shane’s glare intensifies, and he rolls his lips inward and presses them in a tight line, like he’s forcing himself to stay quiet and not say whatever he’s thinking.
I have so many things I want to say to mess with him, but there are too many witnesses around. I’m still in a weird mood, and I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold back.
Time to fuck off before I push things too far.
“I’ll leave you guys to your game,” I tell the group. “Try not to lose too hard.”
“No promises,” Paxton jokes.
I give him and the rest of the table a little wave, shooting Shane a special little smile that I know will piss him the fuck off as I do.
His eyes narrow in another deep glare, and I give a little air kiss complete with one of my trademark smirks.
I expect him to roll his eyes or keep on glaring at me, but he drops his eyes to his chips, his cheeks going slightly pink.
Interesting. I have no idea what got that reaction out of him, but I’ll take it.
Just to be a dick, I offer him a quick wink when he looks up at me again, then head out of the room with my newfound knowledge of Shane’s talent for cheating at cards as I think about all the ways I can use it against him.