Page 4 of Wicked Games

So far, every Babylon-related staff member that I’d encountered had been unfailingly polite and helpful. I just hoped the students were the same.

“Thanks so much for this,” I said to the driver when we finally arrived at my dorm. “I wasn’t looking forward to lugging all this stuff on my own.”

“No problem.” He dipped his chin toward the lock. “Did you manage to find the key?”

“Yup.” I held it up and slid it in. “I can take it from here if you need to leave now.”

He glanced at his watch. “Yep, I should probably head off,” he said. “Anyway, good luck in this place, kid. I mean it.”

He left without another word, and I stared after him with wide eyes. What did he mean by that comment? Was he just aware of how poor scholarship kids were often treated at elite schools? Or did he know something else about this place? Something that might require a lot of luck to deal with?

I shook my head and brushed off the comment. The guy was just being nice and wishing me luck. My nerves were making me paranoid.

I lugged my case inside before returning to the threshold for the rest of my things. Then I took a proper look around my new room, scanning every inch of the place with wide eyes. God, itwas huge. Bigger than the crummy old apartment I shared with my mom and occasionally my dad when he was around.

As well as being spacious, the dorm was beautiful to look at, with elegant furnishings and décor which exuded opulence and comfort. Two king-sized beds with lavish headboards sat on opposite walls, ends pointing toward the center of the room, which featured a carpet runner so soft that my shoes seemed to melt into it. Farther along sat chests of drawers, closets, and large desks with top-of-the-range leather computer chairs.

I was obviously sharing with another student, but I didn’t mind one bit. The room was enormous, and my dormmate seemed neat.

Scratch that.A pair of scrunched-up panties lay on the floor near the bed on the left side, so she wasn’t so neat after all. I didn’t care if she was a bit messy, though. My own life was such a damn mess that it would be hypocritical of me to care about a bit of dirty clothing dropped on the floor.

I checked out the shared bathroom—gorgeous, with a rain shower and premium toiletries—and then headed back into the main space to unpack a couple of things. Then I returned to the bathroom for a quick nervous pee. While I was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror and mentally psyched myself up.

I could do this. Ihadto do this.

With a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and found my way to the main building, where my English class was due to start in ten minutes. As I arrived in the first hall, the bell went off, signaling the end of homeroom. I was just in time, as long as I managed to find my classroom quickly enough.

Students poured out of the doors on either side of the hall, some milling around with friends while others rushed away. No one seemed to notice my unfamiliar face, which I saw as a good thing, because being gawked at like a zoo animal totally sucked.

I turned a corner and promptly shrank backward, my heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings.Hewas here, standing by a drinking fountain with some friends. Hudson Calloway—the asshole who was responsible for my legal woes and threats of prison time.

God, of course. He was from one of the wealthiest families on the West Coast. It made sense that his family would send him here.

Nausea bubbled up in my system, and I whirled around, legs feeling wobbly. In my haste to get away before the rich prick spotted me, I accidentally bumped right into another person’s chest.

“Shit, sorry,” I muttered, lifting a palm as I pulled back. My timetable and map had fallen to the polished floor during the collision, so I knelt to pick them up.

“No worries. Let me help.” The other student knelt beside me and picked up half of my paperwork. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. I—” My words dried up as I caught a proper look at him. Dark, floppy hair framed a handsome face with gorgeous green eyes that held a certain intensity, filling my stomach with butterflies. A playful smile tugged at his lips as he waited for me to finish speaking. “I… uh… thanks for the help,” I stupidly repeated.

I rose to my feet, wishing my whole body wasn’t trembling. The hot guy rose to his full height too, towering over me by at least ten inches. The air around us seemed to crackle with an unspoken promise of excitement, and my earlier terror from around the corner was all but forgotten.

“Are you new here?” Hot Guy asked, tilting his head. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Yeah, brand new. Just arrived half an hour ago.” I forced a nervous smile and stuck out my free hand. “I’m Carey Saracen.”

The twinkle in his eyes immediately vanished, and his face settled into a cold, stony expression. His smile was gone too, replaced with a furious twist to the lips. Without another word, he stalked away, radiating fury all the way down the hall.

“What the hell?” I muttered to myself. I’d never met the guy before, so as far as I knew, he had no reason to respond so negatively to my name.

Perhaps he was a total snob and he’d heard a new scholarship kid named Carey was due to arrive at school soon. I doubted the school made announcements about new kids, though, so that theory didn’t seem likely to be true.

Whatever.

I lifted my chin and stepped back around the corner. The guys from earlier were gone, thankfully, so I strode down the hall until I reached the doorway to Room 12.

The classroom was only half full when I arrived. A bespectacled man in his forties sat at the front, looking down at a notebook. When he heard me step inside, he looked up at me and offered me a pleasant smile. “You’re Carey, aren’t you?”

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