Page 62 of Raise Hell

Thirteen

When I get backto my room after classes on Friday, an envelope with my name on it is pinned to the door. Inside, I find two front row tickets to the big rugby game on Saturday.

I should be happy to finally have Drake’s attention, but I trust the guy about as far as I can throw him. You don’t go from making someone’s life hell to being into them at the drop of a hat.

He is definitely up to something, and it can’t possibly be anything good.

But if I reject him outright, none of the other Havoc Boys will have anything to do with me. I need to have a reason to be around them if I want any chance of figuring out which one of them hurt Olivia.

I can’t do that if I spend the rest of the semester as persona non grata.

Which means, I have to go to this game.

Felicia is decked out head to toe in school colors when I meet her outside her dorm building. The green and gold draped all over her body makes her look a bit like a little chocolate leprechaun.

Our rugby fields are on the far side of campus. There is a shuttle, but Felicia and I arrive too late to catch it and have to walk.

I might have delayed us on purpose to put off the inevitable.

“Why are we even going to this game if you obviously don’t want to?” she grumbles, wrapping the green sweater with gold stripes tighter around her neck. “The field is almost a mile away.”

“Walking is a healthy habit,” I remind her.

She rolls her eyes. “The game will already have started when we get there.”

“Good thing we have assigned seats. No need to fight for space in the general section.”

“This is my first rugby game since I got to St. Bart’s. If you make me miss it, I will never forgive you.”

Felicia quickens her pace so I’m forced to keep up with her or be left behind. I can’t slow her down quite enough, and we reach the bleachers just as the match is about to start.

We’re seated in the front row of the small stadium. The home bench is directly below us. I scan the players on the sidelines, but I don’t see Drake. That has to mean he’s on the field, I note with relief.

“Look how close we are,” Felicia exclaims, obviously excited. “So many hot boys to look at.”

Rugby players are hot, I have to give her that. Their shirts are tight enough to show off every hard curve of their pecs and abs. And those shorts! Muscular thighs and butts churn up and down the field with each play, leaving very little to the imagination.

“I’m starting to see the appeal,” I admit.

“Oh, one of our guys just laid another guy out on his ass. That had to hurt.”

We’re far enough away that it takes some squinting, but I think it’s Cole raising his hands in triumph as an injured player from the other team gets helped off the field. I definitely would not want him barreling toward me at full speed.

I don’t know if playing rugby is a requirement for admission to Havoc House, but a bunch of them are on the team. It’s the biggest sport on campus. I guess plain old American football is too déclassé for a school like St. Bartholomew’s College.

Or these guys just really like ramming into each other without pesky padding in the way.

Once I see Drake out on the field, it’s hard to tear my gaze away. He is all blatant physicality as he takes possession of the ball and barrels down the field. His legs pump hard as he runs, thick muscles bunching and coiling so fast it isn’t even a contest when he breaks away from the last defender between him and the goal.

I’m the only person in the bleachers who doesn’t stand up and cheer when he inevitably scores.

Felicia settles back into her seat with a proud smile. “This is awesome.”

“Sure, it is.”

“Everyone here is having fun. What has you so frowny?”

“Frowny isn’t a word.”

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