Chapter 8
“Okay, now I’m not so envious,” Jordy chortles, hiding his laughs behind his palm.
Fucker. “Uncle could have at least put you up in an apartment or something. God, you have to share a bathroom.” He gives me the side-eye, smirking when I huff.
“And there’s only one.” In this part, he sing-songs, mocking my entire existence. I discreetly flip him off.
Uncle. It’s our code word for Jonathan when we’re surrounded by civilians. No one will ever know that Jordy and I aren't true cousins. In our hearts, I guess we are. Family where it counts.
My nose wrinkles. The room is small. Well, smaller than I thought it would be. I guess I expected more than this. It’s about the size of a damn jail cell. Okay, maybe a little bigger than that. Only slightly, though. It just feels like a jail cell. A punishment I didn’t ask for.
After seeing my three exes out in the courtyard, my adrenaline hasn’t stopped spiking. It’s like, that at every turn, I expect them to be there and ready to hurt me again.
They won’t. I’m dead in their eyes.
This will be home for the next few months. Or less, if I can help it. The faster I bring those idiots to their knees and eliminate Franco’s empire, the quicker I can go back to the bunker with my vibrators in peace.
My eyes gaze around the room, adjusting to the new glasses perched on my nose.
“Make sure you take off your glasses before you get into the shower,” Jordy quips, shivering. “That way, no one has to see all that.” He points to my body with a fake layer of disgust.
Asshole.
“You sure you don’t want to see the goods?” I quip back, pushing at his shoulder.
“As if. I got my fill today.” He winks before dodging another hit to his shoulder and laughs. “But you know it’s not me who looks at the footage. That’s all on IT, and they’re hornballs who would give their left nut to get a glimpse of…” He looks me up and down, pursing his lips.
“Duly noted. I won’t take my glasses into the bathroom with me.” I shiver in disgust at the thought of our IT department getting a glimpse of my goods. Fuckers.
Two twin-sized beds occupy the space, located on opposite sides of each other against the walls. They are accompanied by two desks, chairs, and two sets of dressers—one for me and one for my roommate. One small storage closet rests behind me for everything else.
Male fucking roommate. Ugh. I want to whine about it.
I've already lived with Jordy before. And it's a goddamn nightmare.
Case in point, touching my damn vibrators.
Am I thankful they're in my possession? Yes.
But when the hell am I going to be able to use them?
In the damn closet? The bathroom that I share?
I need to invest in silent vibrators, because at this rate, I won’t get another orgasm unless I dress as Olivia and march myself back to that bar in hopes of finding Mal.
Wait. No. God, brain, why? We don’t want that psycho! He put a tracker on you and wanted to live in your closet. God only knows what he really wanted to do. Take my skin? Probably. But damn, getting down and dirty with him was so needed.
Internally, I shake my head. No way in hell will I ever let that happen again.
Maybe.
Okay, fine. If he and I met in a bar again, I’d let him fuck me in the bathroom and then buy me nachos or something. Fuck. I really need to stop chasing dangerous men. It’s a part of my DNA or something. Case in point–my ex-boyfriends.
My gaze slips across the hall, where voices ring out, talking lowly to one another.
Two more men move around the other dorm room in our suite, across the hall from us.
We are only separated by a small living space with a couch, TV, and a small kitchenette.
It’s almost like apartment living, but not quite.
And my worst nightmare: There’s only one bathroom between the four of us, located off the living space.
One bathroom. This is a goddamn tragedy. How will I hide myself if I have to share?
I'm going to kill Jonathan, after all.
I shake my head. “This is where I die,” I grumble sarcastically to Jordy, who continues to gape at my newest living situation.
I thought living with him and his bad habits and horrible aim was bad.
Seriously, how hard is it for a sharp-shooter to aim his dick into the large porcelain bowl?
Now, I have three strangers to contend with. Three strangers with dicks.
Yay for me.
“That’s impossible,” chimes in a male voice filled with joy as he skips into the room. His dark eyes take us in as his fingers twirl the small hoop lip ring pulling at the edge of his lip, and he physically lights up at the sight of us.
The grin that stretches across his face gives me a sense of reassurance. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s read people. There’s always a tell in their expressions or hidden in their eyes. Some people know how to mask it well, but others not so much.
This guy? He seems harmless. For now, at least.
Everyone’s a suspect in my eyes.
“What’s impossible?” I ask before I think in my own voice, earning a head tilt from him. Fuck. I have to get used to speaking in a lower octave than my normal voice. Easier said than done.
Thankfully, he doesn’t react to my slip-up, but Jordy elbows me, hard. Way to stay inconspicuous, douchecanoe.
“Didn’t you read the living arrangements rules?” my new roommate says, holding out his hand. “I’m Simon. Si. Whatever you want to call me. I live in that room.” He gestures to the identical room across from ours on the other side of the shared living room space.
“I’m Oliv—err—Oliver,” I quickly correct myself and clear my throat, making sure my voice deepens this time. I take his hand firmly, shaking like Jordy reminded me to do before we got out of the SUV.
Jordy frowns. “Jordy,” he says slowly, shaking Simon’s hand. “I’m just the cousin. What’s with the living rules?” He cocks his head like he doesn’t know either.
Simon grimaces. “We have to live on campus this year. Either in the dorms, or we can rush the frats. But no off-campus living is allowed.” He raises his brows.
“Word on the street is because Greenwood is getting dangerous. It wasn't like this last year. I lived in an off-campus apartment last year. Now, pfft. We’re all crammed into these dorms together.” He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling.
“That’s new,” Jordy murmurs, so low only I can hear him.
I swallow hard, catching his gaze as Simon continues to talk about the rules. If Jordy didn’t know the new rules about our dangerous campus, then did Jonathan have any idea, either?
If what Jonathan said was true, then Franco and his gang have had their fingers dipped into academia. AKA this college. So, what makes it more dangerous this year?
“Interesting,” Jordy says a little louder this time, rubbing his chin. “How are the frats? I’d love to visit my dear old cousin here and have some fun. Meet some ladies and gents. I'm not picky.” Jordy grins mischievously, wiggling his brows.
Great. Jordy plans to make the drive and visit. He'll no doubt crash here at some point and probably try to christen my bed with his disgusting dick.
Ugh.
“Parties are fucking epic.” Simon grins more. “I can definitely help show you around.” His cheeks flush.
I blink several times as they continue their discussion, flirting relentlessly with each other until Simon gets called by a male voice, yelling for him from inside his room.
I only get a peek at the man with shaggy blond hair and multiple sets of collared shirts before he disappears from view again.
“We'll talk later,” Simon says, nodding his head at me and taking a few steps before stopping.
“You're a transfer, right? A scholarship student?” I nod, curious how he knows.
“Great. You and me? We're going to be great friends. And you…” He looks Jordy up and down with a suggestive look before sauntering off.
“Ohhh, I like him,” Jordy whistles, watching him walk away. And I do mean watching him. His muscular ass, thighs, and calves. He can't take his eyes off the man.
That's the thing about Jordy. He doesn't care what sex you are. If he likes you, he likes you. He'll bang you, regardless. End of story.
I shiver. “Quit eye fucking my new roommate and help me…” I wave at my new dorm room.
“No can do, Oli.” Ah, the new nickname has officially stuck and won’t leave any time soon.
Even after this mission is done, he’ll call me Oli until I take my last breath, because it’s a thousand times better than Livy.
“I'll be making frequent visits. Expect me soon.” He grins, tossing my bag on my new bed near the second-story window overlooking the graveyard.
My graveyard.
How fucking poetic.
Now, every time I sit on my bed and look out the window, I’ll see the reminder of where I could have been if I hadn’t been miraculously saved. A window to the dead, buried deep in the dirt with nothing but a gravestone above them as remembrance.
I swallow hard, mechanically unpacking my clothes and setting them into the provided dresser. My gaze barely strays from the graveyard where my bones are supposed to be. But they're not. Someone else's are, though.
A cover to conceal my life. And it's worked for this long. No one questioned our closed casket services. Not even Franco, who pretended to show compassion to the community about our demise.
A tear slips down my aching cheeks as I look on from behind a tall oak tree swaying in the slight breeze. A dark veil covers my face and protects my burns from further damage. I can’t believe this is happening.