Chapter 13
JACE
“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” I tell Shane as he opens the door to his room.
He gives me a flat look, but I don’t miss the slight flush of color on his cheeks.
He really does look good in a pair of fitted pants that hug his thick thighs and probably make his ass look amazing, and an emerald green shirt that fits him like a second skin and makes his brown eyes and chestnut hair pop in the light. But then again, he always looks good.
“You’re not going to tell me I look nice?” I tease as he steps into the hall and closes the door behind him.
He makes a big show of looking over his shoulder and giving me a once-over. “You don’t look awful.”
“Better than what I expected you to say, so I’ll take it.”
I wait for him to finish locking up, then hand him a small earpiece about the size of a CIC, or completely in canal, hearing aid.
“Is this really necessary?” he asks as he takes it from me.
“Yup.”
He fits it in his ear and flexes his jaw a few times, like he’s testing to see if it’s secure. “It feels weird.”
“You’ll get used to it. Have you ever worn one before?”
He shakes his head, and the two of us head down the hall together.
“It’ll pick up your voice when it’s on, and it’s sensitive enough that you can whisper and I’ll still be able to hear you.”
“How do I turn it on and off?”
“You don’t, I do. But I’ll leave it off until it’s go time.”
“I could have just met you in the lobby,” he says, his eyes darting around like he’s expecting his friends to pop out of the woodwork and catch us together. “You didn’t have to come to my door.”
“You could have,” I agree. “But I wouldn’t be a very good date if I didn’t pick you up.”
He swings his surprised gaze to mine. “This isn’t a date.”
“I think it is.” I push the door to the stairs open for him and wait for him to go through.
“It isn’t,” he insists, his voice hushed so it doesn’t echo in the stairwell.
“What do you call going to a party together and getting up to some mischief if it’s not a date?”
“A bad fucking idea, that’s what I call it.”
“You’re freaking out.”
“No, I’m being realistically cautious.”
“You’re freaking out.”
He lets out a frustrated sound, almost like a grunt mixed with a sigh, and tips his head up like he’s asking for some divine intervention, or for a lightning bolt to appear out of nowhere and delete me from existence.
We fall silent as we make our way to the main floor, then exit through the side door.
“How are you so calm about this?” he asks when we’re outside and the door has closed behind us. “Do you have any idea what will happen to us if we get caught?”
“We’re not going to get caught,” I tell him as he falls into step beside me.
“You’re either overconfident, or there’s something seriously wrong with you that you don’t see this for the insanity it is.”
“Not overconfident,” I tell him. “And I’ve never denied that there’s something wrong with me.”
“Is that something the fact that you’re a psycho?” he asks sweetly.
“Yup. But the clinical diagnosis is antisocial personality disorder. Psycho is a colloquial term.”
He lets out a heavy-sounding sigh. “We’re about to do something incredibly dangerous that could literally get us killed, and you’re making jokes.”
“Who’s joking?”
He shoots me an unimpressed look. “Can you just be serious right now so I don’t end up having a panic attack?”
I gently grab his arm and tug him to a stop. He reluctantly turns to face me.
“I promise there’s no reason for you to be afraid,” I tell him, all traces of my earlier teasing gone.
“Jax and I know what we’re doing, and we don’t leave people behind.
Just focus on your part, and we’ll do the rest. If we do that, the three of us will walk out of there exactly the same way we walk in. ”
He studies me for a few beats, like he’s trying to decide if I’m being sincere, then nods. “Okay. But I’ll kill you myself if you’re wrong.”
“Deal.” I motion toward the gate, and we start walking again.
“So you and Jax break into places a lot?” he asks, his voice low even though there’s no one around us.
“When we need to, and when we want to.” I shoot him a quick grin. “Like I’ve said, we have some unique hobbies.”
“Like hacking?”
“Like hacking,” I confirm.
“It’s so weird to think of you as a hacker.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you’re not the hacker type.”
“And what’s the hacker type?”
“You know, someone like Myles or Carter. A quiet nerd who spends all their time at their computer.”
“I’m a nerd who spends all my time at my computer—well, most of my time. I’m just not quiet.”
He tips his head back and rolls his eyes. “I mean like an actual nerd who’s super smart and not…”
“Not…” I prompt when he trails off. “Go on, finish your thought.”
He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“You think I’m just an empty-headed pretty boy who rides on my daddy’s coattails and likes to cause chaos and mayhem because I’m bored and I know I can get away with it, right?”
He shrugs.
“Well, news flash. You only think that because it’s what I want you to think.
It’s what I want everyone to think. You’ve actually seen more of who I really am than anyone outside my family ever has, but you still only see the version of me that I show you.
And life is easier if everyone just writes me off as a dumb frat guy with a bad temper and a smart mouth, so that’s the part I play around people I don’t trust.”
“Wait.” He looks at me, his eyes full of confusion. “You just said I’ve seen more of the real you than anyone outside your family, but then you follow it up by saying that you only show your true self or whatever to people you trust. So which is it?”
“Come on, Shane. You’re smarter than you let on too. You can figure this one out on your own.”
“Are you actually saying that you trust me?” He blinks at me like he’s not sure what to believe.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you hate me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” he insists.
“No, I don’t,” I repeat. “I never have.”
“But then why…”
“Why do we butt heads so much and why do I annoy the fuck out of you?”
“Yeah.”
“Because it’s fun.”
He tosses me a flat look. “And because I let you?”
“Exactly. Now you’re getting it. And it’s fine if you think you hate me. I’m very used to that, but truthfully, I don’t hate anyone.”
“How is that even possible? How can you not hate anyone?”
“I just don’t.”
“And what if someone betrays you or does something unforgivable?”
“Then I deal with them in whatever way I need to, then I forget they exist and move on.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit. In order to hate someone, I’d have to care about them and their opinions, and I don’t. Hate me, loathe me, dislike me, none of that matters because they don’t matter.”
“So you’re saying you don’t give a shit what I think of you because I don’t matter, but at the same time you expect me to believe that you trust me?”
“I never said anything about you,” I tell him.
“I was talking about people who actually hate and loathe and dislike me. You just think you do because it’s easier than admitting that I confuse the fuck out of you and that maybe all that rage you keep directing at me is a way for you to cover that up. ”
“So now you know what I’m thinking and feeling?”
“Am I wrong?”
“So wrong.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
He tosses me an annoyed look. “Has anyone ever told you how arrogant you are?”
“Constantly, but is it arrogance if it’s true?”
He rolls his eyes again. “So fucking arrogant.”
“Are you still nervous?” I ask as we cut across the quad of one of the academic buildings.
“No, now I’m just annoyed.”
“Good, now find a way to channel that annoyance into awareness, and you’ll be just fine.”
Shane shoots me a dirty look but doesn’t say anything as we get stuck behind a group of students walking ridiculously slowly and taking up the entire path. We skirt around them, but by the time we’re far enough away that we can talk freely, King House comes into view.
Like all of the houses on campus, King House is a reflection of the people who founded it, and they really went hard playing up their historical ties to the aristocracies of the world.
The house is a giant stone mansion that looks like a cross between a castle and a chateau, complete with spires and battlements and a portcullis over the main door. It’s also surrounded by a stone fence topped with iron spikes.
Most of the front-facing windows on the lower level are lit up, but there are no other indications that there’s a party going on.
“You good?” Jace asks quietly as we tap our IDs at the main gate and step through the doorway when it pops open for us.
“Fine, just having an internal freak out. No big deal.”
“I promise I won’t let you out of my sight unless I have to while we’re here,” I tell him as we walk up the cobblestone path. “Everything will be okay.”
“And if I fuck up and can’t get the card, or he realizes what I did?”
“Then things will get messy, but I don’t mind messy.”
“I think this is the first time your arrogance is actually comforting.”
Before I can answer, the door swings open. Someone who looks like a freshman in a court jester outfit answers the door, holding a tablet. He gives us a quick once-over, then taps the screen of his tablet a few times, presumably to check us off the guest list.
“Please read and sign the following form to agree to the terms,” he says in a bored voice as he ushers us inside. “Failure to do so will result in you being escorted from the premises.” He extends the tablet to us.
Shane takes it and quickly skims the page, then uses his finger to sign his name at the bottom.
I take it from him and scan through the rules.
None of them are any different from the last form I signed, and they’re mostly about not allowing any sort of phones or recording devices on the property and us promising to stay in the dedicated party areas.
We didn’t bring our phones, but I definitely won’t be staying in the party areas.