Chapter 5
Weston
Colossus Dining Hall is packed on Thursday night.
“Fuck yes. Sushi night,” Oliver says somewhere behind me, his voice nearly lost in the chatter of the hall.
“That’s not even real sushi,” Niko tells him. “It’s ginger-soy steak wrapped up with rice.”
“Who says sushi can’t be made with steak?” Ollie protests.
“You’re so fucking cute,” Niko tells him. “Have I ever told you that?”
I grab a couple of the steak sushi rolls and sauce cups of ginger-soy, because I don’t give a fuck if it’s correct for sushi, it’s delicious.
“Going to be impossible to find a booth,” I tell Niko as we go down the line grabbing other small plates to fill up our trays.
“Not an issue. I think Sev’s already nabbed a table for us in the corner.”
Something grips tight in my chest.
“You invited Sev?”
“Yeah,” Niko says, flashing me a look. “He’s my cousin, dude. You guys can refrain from killing each other for one dinner.”
I exhale, my eyes scanning the dining hall. “It’s fine. Don’t give a fuck about him.”
Liar.
Lying liar.
You’ve fallen asleep thinking about the finer details of his thick, long cock every night since it was between your lips.
I bite the inside of my cheek, looking back down at the buffet line full of food.
“Chocolate malt milkshakes in the machine for dessert,” Ollie says, pointing at the sign over the shake machine across the room. “Best dinner ever.”
Hunter, Rayne, and Noah all just walked in, too, and I see them making their way over through the crowd.
Plenty of people on my side here tonight.
It’s been nearly a week since my night with Sev. Ancient history, and I’m certain he isn’t thinking about it anymore. So fucking what if I have to be at the same table as him for one dinner?
I spot Sev easily the moment we start to walk over as a group.
He’s sitting at the big, curved booth in one corner of the dining hall, leaning back with a leather jacket on and a white T-shirt beneath it, his tattoos peeking out at the top of his chest: a red rose with a long stem, the top of an abstract indigo-colored compass, and others I can’t make out.
One dark lock of his hair falls across his forehead, and he brushes it to the side as we walk over.
I swear there may as well be a silver loaded gun on the booth tabletop for how intimidating Sevan looks, even just sitting alone at a table.
“God,” I mutter under my breath before we’re within earshot of the table. “Niko, was your cousin always… violent?”
Please say no.
Please. Say. No.
“Oh, absolutely,” Niko says.
Niko sets down his food tray and walks over to Sev, giving him a side-hug, smiling with ease.
He takes the seat next to Sev and I wait for everyone else to sit down before taking a spot as far away from him as I can.
I drop my tray on the table and a little bit of my ginger-soy sauce splashes out from the edge of the rim. I reach for a wad of napkins right away, and already, I can feel Sev’s eyes burning into me.
“Chill, Sheriff,” he says. “It’s just sauce. No need to be anal about it.”
“Cleaning a spill doesn’t mean I’m anal, but thanks, Sev.”
Fuck, his low voice.
Is he making it low and husky like that to torment me?
Or am I just losing my fucking mind around him already?
I finally sit down and avert my gaze from him. From the opposite side of the curved booth, there’s enough distance between us that I can at least pretend he isn’t there.
I sit at the edge of my end of the booth with Noah beside me, and I pop a carrot in my mouth, perfectly crunchy and cold. Steak sushi, carrots, and a big salad is the type of dinner that the guys make fun of me for, telling me I’m too healthy.
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.
After I finish eating I lean back, looking down at the table and playing with a straw wrapper instead of watching Rayne and Hunter lean against each other.
I’m happy for them, I tell myself for the hundredth time.
My brother and my best friend, deeply in love, before I’ve ever even had a long-term relationship.
Very cool. Totally chill.
My phone buzzes in my pocket a minute later.
A sound and feeling that I still fucking despise.
My father always used to text me when he was still alive, usually admonishing me for something or vaguely threatening me about losing my inheritance.
God, why does everything still feel like a threat?
I slide it out.
I don’t recognize the number that texted me.
Unknown Number: Scared of me?
I furrow my brow, shifting on the booth seat.
Weston: Who is this?
My cock was stuffed down your obedient throat last Saturday. Is that a good enough hint?
I drop my phone onto my lap like it stung me.
I glance up with a furrowed brow and see Sevan’s smug look across the table. He isn’t smiling, but I see the amusement in his eyes. He’s holding his phone with one hand, the other lazily draped on the booth behind him.
Heat floods my body as I grab the phone from my lap and tap out a reply.
How do you have my number?
Asked Niko for it.
…Why?
Because I wanted it. You’re sitting so far away from me. I’m lonely.
Because we aren’t friends.
Why don’t you come sit on my lap, instead?
I let out a frustrated sigh and lock my phone, putting it face down on the table. I’m so hard it’s like my cock is trying to break through the denim of my pants, and that’s the last thing I need while I’m at dinner.
The thought of sitting on his lap makes my whole body feel like it’s on fire.
Being that near his cock again. Having him hold me close.
Ignore it.
Just ignore him.
What the fucking fuck does he mean by “obedient throat,” anyway?
…And would he actually enjoy having me in his lap?
I shift on the booth and refuse to meet Sev’s eyes. I turn back toward Noah instead, who is now downing the rest of his drink like it’s water.
“Dude, what the hell?” I ask.
“I have to fuck someone else tonight. Look at her.”
I look across the dining hall to see Stephanie Kim currently making out with a tall guy who looks vaguely like Chris Hemsworth. They look hot together. Noah knows it, and I know it, too.
My phone vibrates again and again on the tabletop, and I ignore the sound.
“Noah, you barely dated her. You need to have some semblance of self-control or you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
Noah gives me a little shove, trying to push me out of the booth.
My phone’s vibrating again, and the sound ticks me off on a deep level. I’m so conditioned to think of that sound like it’s nails on a goddamn chalkboard.
And now it’s so much worse.
I pick the phone up, briefly seeing the front screen littered with texts from Sevan.
My eyes skim past certain words and phrases that stand out like razor barbs:
—hard for me—
—wet, waiting mouth—
—such a good slut—
—many times have you thought of me while you touched yourself this week?—
I don’t open a single one.
My heart beats hard in my chest as I turn the screen away from Noah’s field of view and I hold down the power button until the thing finally shuts off.
“Okay, Noah,” I tell him, standing up with my tray. “Let’s just go home.”
It’s like a small mercy from heaven when Noah actually obliges, saying goodbye to the others and following me out of Colossus.
The air outside is misty and cool on my hot cheeks. Each step of the walk home feels like getting further away from the jaws of a hungry lion.
Noah and I get back to Onyx House and the anger in me mostly subsides as we find some of the other guys in the living room. We settle in and play some rounds of poker with them, and I stay there later than I normally would, whittling away the hours trying to distract myself.
And I keep my phone off for the rest of the night.
When I wake up too early, around 4:30 in the morning, it’s still dark outside.
I’m groggy as hell. I reach toward my nightstand and finally, I turn my phone on again.
The texts Sev sent at the dining hall were all just meant to bug me. Other than the stuff I already saw that was clearly written to provoke me, it’s mostly just more comments about how I should have been more careful at the Zenith night.
But there’s one message he sent afterward.
Later, around 2 in the morning.
The message is simple:
I’m going to have to fuck you, aren’t I?
Attached below it is a picture of his cock. It’s in dim lighting, clearly taken while he was in bed.
And I swear it looks even bigger than it did when I saw it in person. It’s obscene how good it looks, the dusky pink color, with perfect veins and Sev’s fist clutching it at the bottom.
“God damn it,” I whisper under my breath.
I’m hard already.
No one else in the house is awake, and under the covers, I grip my dick, pissed off that I’m doing this but knowing I’ll only feel worse if I don’t get it out of my system.
I stare at the photo as I pump my cock, tapping the screen every time it starts to go dim.
And I feel like a goddamn addict.
Like I have some illicit secret, here under the covers, a shameful, dark thing I can’t make sense of. My thoughts don’t even make sense to me, still bleary with sleep and alone under the covers.
I want his mouth on me again.
Make him finish the job, this time.
I want it again so fucking badly, and I hate more than anything that it has to be him. The way he fucking put his lips around me before he knew who I was…
“Fuck,” I breathe as I come hard, faster than I expected, spilling white streaks all over my own torso.
And in that brief moment, nothing feels better than coming to the thought of Sevan Berlant. My heart pounds and I catch my breath, thoughts swirling into nothing in my mind.
And then, a minute later, it’s like a fog has suddenly lifted.
I go through the texts from Sev and permanently delete every single one, starting with the picture. As I scroll past the text that said I’m going to have to fuck you, I bite my lower lip, almost angry at how much it turned me on.
I block his number, clean up, and go back to bed.