Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
My fingers curl. That chill races down my arms, and I flex against it hard, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“Enjoy the show,” I finally mutter, turning to go. I should leave it there. Should walk away.
But I glance back once, just for a second.
He’s still watching Rey. Not leering. Not assessing.
Guarding.
And that’s worse.
Because whatever game I thought I was playing with her, I’m not the only one playing anymore.
And though I don’t lose…
Something tells me he doesn’t, either.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rey
“So what’s next?” I ask, watching Aric’s back as he walks away.
We’ve moved to a corner of the room. Most of the freshmen are raiding snack tables or wandering off to mingle with one another or to chat with their advisers. But a few of the others from our getting-to-know-you group are lingering next to Rowen and me, clearly unsure what to do next.
The hall echoes with a low hum of too many conversations, and I could curse my overly sensitive nose. I’m picking up stress sweat and cheap perfumes, an assortment of body lotions, soap, and coffee. It’s distracting.
Eira sighs and checks her watch. “Please tell me this is actually over and we won’t be forced back into some team-building exercise, because I say no.”
Rowen clears his throat next to her, as if to say, you don’t really have a choice. Seriously, why is he here? And why hasn’t he said something? His silence is worse than the lingering stares he keeps shooting in my direction, like I should be able to somehow read his mind or something.
Eira glances over her shoulder before he can open his mouth. “You’ve been working for like an hour. Shut it.”
He holds up his hands. Normally I would laugh, because I’m the one who bosses Rowen around, but instead, I’m just extremely confused.
“Working?” Ziva asks. “Working in what manner?”
“Yes,” I add. “Working for who?”
Eira waves her phone like it’s obvious.
Ziva and I share a look. No, no it isn’t.
“I’m a makeup influencer,” she says, as if that explains everything, and honestly? It explains a bit.
“You don’t say,” Ziva deadpans. “So he’s your personal protection from someone trying to steal your eyelash curler?”
Eira shrugs. “A threat can come from anywhere.”
All right, that’s actually a valid statement.
“Besides,” Eira continues, “my dad’s high up at Odin Enterprises. It would be a publicity nightmare if something were to happen to me. I mean, can you imagine?”
Oh, I am. Imagining.
She realizes I’m the boss’s daughter and I don’t have a bodyguard, right?
But this is an ingenious way to get Rowen on campus without looking suspicious. Although I wonder why Father didn’t just send him as my bodyguard. Or have him enroll as a transfer student or something.
More than that, a few days ago, Rowen wasn’t permitted to help me at all.
What changed?
I jolt when Aric returns, sidling up next to me. “Friend of yours?”
“Wow.” I slow clap in an attempt to recover from my own dark thoughts. “You know what friends are? Color me impressed.”
Reeve comes up behind his brother, putting an affectionate arm around his shoulders. “He can spell ‘cat,’ too. It’s wild. I’m still dumbfounded.”
Aric shoves him lightly, and Reeve pretends to clutch his arm in pain.
I lift my chin. “Nice speech, by the way.”
He grimaces.
Sigurd clears his throat into the microphone, causing feedback to fill the air, and several hundred students collectively groan.
“Not again,” Aric mumbles.
“Sorry. Sorry ’bout that.” Sigurd smiles like, little ol’ me doesn’t know how to work a mic. “This concludes our ceremony. Thank you for attending today’s assembly! Remember to download the Endir app, and new students and transfers can collect your final enrollment packets at table three.” He points to the left corner of the room. “Lastly, don’t forget to sign up for this week’s activities!”
“There’s more?” I choke.
“So much more.” Reeve’s smile is creepy big.
Sigurd speaks with a flourish. “Throughout the week, we’ll be having an ice cream social—”
“Which we will not be attending,” Reeve says under his breath.
“Followed by fireworks over the lake.”
“Also not attending, because the fireworks at our end-of-the-week house party are better,” Reeve adds.
“And our annual capture-the-flag-slash-Nerf-battle.”
Reeve’s hand shoots up. “That I will be going to.”
“And finally, as has long been an Endir tradition, we will welcome our esteemed alumni, parents, students, and faculty to participate in the Wild Hunt for good luck! Feast and games provided, of course. If you make it through the treacherous trails, that is.”
Everyone laughs.
Reeve smiles. “That I will be planning.”
“There are also several department-led mixers so you’re able to get to know other students within your major. Good luck.” Sigurd finally gets off the microphone and hands it to one of the staff.
Reeve breathes a sigh of relief. “Hide that microphone. Put it in your pants if you have to. Do not hand it back.”
And just like that, my first and final week at Endir is officially underway.