Page 31 of Wicked Games

Every word out of his mouth is a damn lie. I have to hold on to that and remind myself when he once again flips a switch and tries to soothe away the hurt.

“I’m not doing this with you,” I say carefully.

He smirks. “I think you will.”

“We’re over, Caleb.” I flash him my bare wrist.

Yesterday, before I left my childhood home, I removed it and set it back on the dresser, right where he had originally returned it to after stealing it.

I kept the key. It seemed more valuable than not, and it sits at the bottom of my bag. Better safe than sorry. And who would think twice about a rusted old key?

He grabs my wrist, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s still wearing his. It doesn’t appear feminine on him, though. Quite the opposite.

Who knew?

I let him push my sleeve up. Maybe he thinks it’s a trick.

Nothing but skin, baby.

He growls under his breath. It could be an accidental slip because I got to him. Surprised him for once. Or it could be part of the game. Another lie.

This just in: we’re playingmygame now.

I smile. “As you can see, we’re done here.”

He straightens, fingers slipping off my skin. “We’ll see.”

He returns to his seat, and I exhale. One encounter down… just a million more to go. But I can’t help the smile that creeps across my face.

Margo: 1

Caleb: 0

The bell rings, and I stand. Savannah shuffles along behind me, muttering. Her attitude—feigned interest and then an abrupt change—piques my interest. I slow down in the hallway, waiting for her to pass me. Her class is a few down from my next one.

She hesitates next to me. “You’re going to try and take down the royalty?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?”

“Royalty, as in all of them? Why on earth would I do that?” A fight with Caleb is going to be hard enough as it is. I don’t need his three friends involved.

She makes a face. “Amelie mentioned something.”

“They don’t all need bringing down.” I don’t know what Amelie said. Again, my mind goes to the worst possible place:Trap.

This school is filled with vipers. It’s like I’m asking to be bitten by just existing here.

“Gotta go.” I duck into my classroom, leaving her standing outside.

It’s quiet. Thankfully. I make it through the rest of my morning classes in peace, only once passing Riley in the hall and giving her a nervous smile. Fifth period, right before lunch, I take a seat as Ms. Devereux starts her lecture on a story we read over the weekend.

My gaze moves from her to her desk in the corner. She’s got a picture of her son on it. He’s young—probably only seven or eight—and is dwarfed in hockey gear. I spotted it the other day, back when I appreciated that Caleb plays hockey, and she’s mentioned him in passing. That she has to get home to her family, or when she’d miss a day because of a hockey tournament or doctor’s appointment.

Whatever the reason, it’s clear she loves him.

I learned from Riley that my teacher’s husband is moving up in the political arena. He’s currently holding down the position of lieutenant governor for the state of New York. It’s a little intimidating, knowing Ms. Devereux’s husband is in politics.

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