Page 59 of Carry Your Debt

Hypocrisy, on the other hand—that’s a witch I know well, as anyImperiumwoman does. Like Apollo calling me out for my ‘overnight guest’ while in the middle of his own walk of shame?

Men.

They’re just as good at getting on my nerves as thesemotherfuckingpins in thismotherfuckinglock.

Christ,doI hate the new mechanisms on these fancy modern doors. Why would anyone upgrade a heritage building’s perfectly beautiful, perfectly pickable, vintage hardware?

Knowing every single one of the Boys had a free period right now, I’d expected at leastoneof them to be in. But after my knocking went unanswered, I’d decided I wasn’t going to pass up a perfectly good opportunity to snoop on my new teammates.

Unfortunately, it looks as though they’ve had a custom lock put in because my duped master key hadn’t worked at all. Hence the heavy make-out session that’s been happening between my toolkit and the Boy’s front door.

“Haven’t already spent enough time on your knees for the Rox Boys, Winters?” a masculine voice sneers from somewhere directly behind me.

Leo.

My picks dig into my palms as I spin in place. Fuck him for sneaking up on me, but alsofuckhimif he thinks I’m going to sit here and let him slut shame me. “Jesus, Baker, put a bell on that pretty little Aces collar of yours, would you?”

The thundercloud covering the handsome footballer’s face darkens even further. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I clocked you with those two Clubs back at the Guardhouse?” I smirk up at him, watching as his lip curls. He looks freshly showered, wet hair combed back and his gymbag still slung over his shoulder. The Titans would have just finished practice.

“Isthatwhy you’ve been avoiding me?”

Leo shifts so he can cross his arms. He could really take some notes from Ares, though; the move isn’t as intimidating as he thinks it is. But where in the hell did this new backbone come from? Surely not from being what equates to a Strange Aces errand boy.

Maybe I just added a littletoomuch chocolate syrup to that vanilla milkshake of his.

“Huh,nope,” I drawl, turning back around to my task. “I just don’t double dip.”

“You know Sinclair’s not as perfect as he likes everybody to think. There’s going to be hell to pay for breaking into their room,” he grits out.

My eyebrows rise, as I pretend to study the lock. “Oh, I’m counting on it. Are you going to be the one to tell him, Leon?”

“You should have taken my help,” he spits, the frustration when all he gets is more of my back so evident that it has a small grin tugging up the side of my lips.

“Still think I’m going to have to pass on that,” I say. My tools stay poised against the strike plate, making no moves to go further. I don’t want to risk the linebacker trying to follow me inside if I somehow manage to conquer these pins while he’s standing in my blind spot.

There’s a beat of silence. “Fine, guess I’ll just thank you for popping my slum cherry, then,” he snickers cruelly.

Oh, because what’s more important to the student elite than their reputation? And howdevastatingto be not only labeled a whore, but alow-classwhore.

Lucifer should really save on an eternity of whips and chains and just send everybody back to high school.

“Nice. So your game’s weak both onandoff the field,” I observe, blithely.

“Fucking bitch,” he hisses under his breath, prompting me to turn back to him with lips slightly parted. Before I can respond, he spins around and shoves a key into the door behind him. The second it gives way, he shoulders angrily through the doorframe, taking great pains to slam it shut so loudly it rattles.

I then spend several more frustrating minutes—both trying to brute force my way inside and to reconcile the sinister promise in Leo’s flashing brown eyes with the shy golden retriever I seduced last week. When I’m finally able to stagger to my feet and push open the door, it’s with bruised kneecaps and a throbbing headache at the base of my skull.

From the floor plan, I know that each bedroom occupies one corner of a long, rectangular space, opening directly into a large communal living area. The kitchen and lounge themselves are similar in design to my own; both clean and rigid in their industrial minimalism.

Running a finger along the top of the massive TV screen, I snort when it comes away clean. It’s completely spotless in here, and I can’t help but wonder who exactly’s to thank for that. What it must be like for the pristinely pressed Head Prefect of Rox Academy to share a space with Hermes, who moves through life like his only mode isMayhem.

Standing in the middle of the living area, I study each of the closed doors. What the floor plan couldn’t tell me, of course, was who sleptwhere.

BehindDoor Number Oneis a basic Rox Academy dorm setup of double bed, standing closet, and desk. One wall is taken up entirely by a large window seat that overlooks the Academy grounds. The opposite wall houses another closed door, which—from its positioning—should lead to one of the Jack-and-Jill style bathrooms that bridge each pair of rooms.

This particular bedroom is utilitarian in its decor; sparse, with only a few soft blues and dove grays among the charcoals for color. The bed’s been made with painful, military precision, and the desk is almost completely bare of objects.

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