Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“I couldn’t give a shit about my reputation.” It’s not like I landed in this place for being a social climber.
“Yeah, well, you don’t know any better.” He throws open our door and jerks his head at me. “Things work different around here. So get your ass out of that chair, Remington. Gotta show my new stepbro off to the rest of the floor.”
I swallow a sigh. Whatever. I have the rest of the semester to sit in this room bored out of my mind. Might as well get the lay of the land.
For the next twenty minutes, Fenn introduces me around our floor. I meet guys with names like Xavier, Shepley and Tripp, who all look the same to me, a blur of designer clothes and expensive watches. Eventually we end up back at the Playboy room, where I’m introduced to Lawson, who’s finally put on some pants. He’s still shirtless, but at least his package isn’t in my line of vision anymore.
“Hey,” he says. “Welcome, make yourselves at home.”
“RJ, this is Lawson. Don’t take pills from him.”
Lawson grins at Fenn. “Fuck off.”
The guy is tall, around my height, with a few lines of text tattooed on the left side of his ribcage. I can’t make out the words, but I imagine it’s something angsty and irrelevant. With his big frame and tousled hair, Lawson gives off a real Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights vibe. And I’m only familiar with goddamn Tim Riggins because Julie used to make me watch the show between rounds of sex while I protested the whole time. I fucking hate sports.
“Hey, I’m Silas.”
I hadn’t noticed the second guy sitting on his bed. He’s one of those people your eye loses in the scenery if they stop moving. Cropped hair, hazel eyes, generically handsome features. When he stands, though, he’s taller than he looked. Both he and Lawson have an athlete’s build. I peg them as rowers maybe. Something posh. I can’t imagine either of them in any kind of contact sport.
“So. RJ.” Lawson offers me a drink from a liquor cart sunken inside the sofa under the seat cushion. “What’s your deal?”
Why does everyone keep asking me that? “Don’t have one.”
Lawson glances at Silas. “So coy.” Then he throws himself in one of the armchairs, feet up on the coffee table. “None of us ended up here by accident. We all get into something.”
I shrug.
“Hey, if you run, it’ll only make me chase you.” Lawson picks a half-smoked cigar out of an ashtray on the table and lights it.
“Stop flirting,” Fenn tells him.
“Just making friends, Fennelly. Jeez.” Lawson studies me again, amused. “Whatever your side hustle is,” he warns me, “keep it close to the vest. You don’t want Duke peeking at your cards.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “You have a den mother?”
“A housefather, actually,” Silas says ruefully. “Mr. Swinney.”
“Don’t worry. Roger’s a puppy,” Lawson adds.
“About as intimidating as a goldendoodle with cataracts.” Fenn’s voice is absent-minded. He’s on his phone again. He’s been texting with someone named Casey all afternoon, but when I asked if she was his girlfriend, he recoiled in horror. I guess girlfriend is a bad word around here.
“Duke is another senior. Fancies himself a Rottweiler.” Lawson pauses. “Although I guess he is one. He’s definitely got the bite to back up that bark. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. You’ll run into him sooner or later.”
So apparently Duke is what passes for the muscle around here. I’ll have to see what I can dig up on him, find out how much real trouble he’s capable of. Either way, I’m not about to be intimidated by some soft-ass prep school rich boy.
“Well, Remington.” Lawson grins at me, and I glare at Fenn for outing me. “Welcome to Bendover Prep. Turn your head and cough. It’ll only hurt a little.”
Charming.
A short while later, we make our way to the Lounge with the rest of the guys on the floor for a mandatory house rules meeting. The halls already stink of pot, and I think I saw a still in one room on the way over here, which I assume is more of a hobby than necessity. Seems like there isn’t any security to speak of, in terms of sifting out the contraband.
“All right, gentlemen, quiet down.”
A man in a brown blazer and glasses stands at the front of the room. Frazzled and unkempt, he looks like he got dressed in his car. He clears his throat a few times, failing to get the attention of the three dozen guys piled on the couches and scrolling on their phones.
“Come on, eyes up,” he pleads. “This will only take a minute.” If anything, the room gets louder. “Please, the sooner we start, the quicker this will be over with.”