Page 96 of Raise Hell

Nineteen

When I walkinto my economics class, Drake is already waiting for me with his arm draped around the back of my empty chair.

I freeze in the doorway, resisting the urge to run. I haven’t seen his face since he dropped me off at my room over the weekend, and I’m not sure I can look him in the eye.

What do you say to the guy that doesn’t know he took your virginity?

Last night might be the biggest mistake of my life.

I never should have let things go that far.

Before I decide if I can handle this or not, Drake notices me lingering in the doorway. A wide smile crosses his face but doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“If you got here any later, Hewey would have locked the door on you,” he says mildly as I take my seat.

I slowly unload my notebook and pens onto the desk, because it gives me an excuse not to look at him. “I believe in getting beauty sleep.”

“Well, it’s definitely paying off.”

It would take a significantly dumber girl not to realize he’s playing some sort of game with me. I can only assume the big reveal is coming soon.

Eventually, he’ll figure out a way to humiliate me.

I have prepared myself for that, bracing for it, even though I know it’s going to hurt. Everything Drake has done since I arrived here has been with the aim of compelling me to leave.

But I wasn’t expecting how long he’s willing to play this game.

The other students are listening in with obvious interest. We always seem to attract an audience.

It was already interesting enough to them when he started working with me in class. If they find out we went on a date, it will blow their minds.

I decide to play it cool.

“Did you enjoy the weekend?” I ask, flipping open my notebook so I can casually doodle in the margins.

“Just the part I spent hanging out with you. We’ll have to go back to that restaurant.”

Someone gasps behind me. I don’t look to see who it is.

I finally turn to look at Drake, resting my chin in my hand. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

His smile widens. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

This is three-dimensional chess being played blindfolded. He has to know I’m suspicious of his motives, but that doesn’t seem to faze him.

I get a visceral flashback to the feel of him moving inside me — hot and rough, totally alive.

“You got what you wanted,” I point out. “It seems a little silly for you to still be hanging around.”

“You have no idea what I want, Olivia Pratt.”

He puts too much emphasis on my name, exaggerating each syllable.

I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me.”

Cat and mouse.

The only question is which of us will devour the other.

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