Page 39 of Wicked Games

Felix seems to be the exception to his rule, and as far as I know, Jordan’s never had a problem with them being friends. Whatever the reason isn’t any of my business, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wondered why Jordan hates her so much and why he’s made it his mission to make sure everyone on campus stays as far away from her as possible.

Thankfully, Eden seems happy to just follow me and doesn’t say a word as we head up to my room.

When we’re finally in front of my door, I unlock it and throw it open. I’m expecting to find Felix on the couch or maybe at his desk, but he’s in bed, the covers pulled up and still asleep.

Eden shoots me a worried look as I close the door behind us.

“That’s weird, right?” she asks.

I nod. It’s almost lunchtime. Did he come back to the room for a nap, or did he just never get up?

“Felix?” she calls, her voice way too soft to wake anyone up. “Are you okay?”

She looks between me and Felix a few times, obviously asking permission to go further into the room. I nod, and she hurries over to his bed to gently shake his shoulder. “Felix?”

He doesn’t move, and I’m already walking toward her when she looks up, her face a mask of fear and concern. “Something’s wrong,” she says as I come up to the bed.

“What do you mean?” I scan the area around us to make sure there aren’t any threats—or clues—I need to know about.

She shakes his shoulder again, hard enough to rock his entire body on the mattress.

He doesn’t move at all. Not even his breathing changes.

“Felix?” I pull the covers back so I can get a better look at him.

At first glance, everything seems fine. He’s curled up on his side, hugging his spare pillow like a teddy bear. There are no signs of blood or injuries, and he’s breathing.

Why the fuck isn’t he waking up?

“Felix.” I grip his shoulder and give it a shake.

He exhales a little puff of air, but that’s it.

“What do we do?” Eden asks, her voice laced with fear. “Should we call the school doctor?”

“No. Not yet.” I rest the back of my hand against his forehead. He’s warm, but that could be because he’s been under the blankets and not because he has a fever.

“You should use your lips,” Eden says.

“Huh?” I shoot her a confused look.

“Your lips are more sensitive than your hands,” she explains. “They’re more accurate for checking for fevers if you don’t have a thermometer.”

“Yeah, I’m not kissing his forehead to check if he’s feverish.”

She rolls her eyes and mutters something that sounds a lot like “Toxic masculinity,” and pushes me out of the way so she can press her lips to his forehead.

I bite back a smirk. She thinks me not wanting to kiss his forehead is because of toxic masculinity? Obviously Felix didn’t tell her about how I had zero issues jerking him off or coming down his throat a week ago.

“No fever,” she announces.

Felix lets out a soft sound, almost like a cross between a sigh and a moan.

“Felix?” I gently tug the spare pillow out of his grip.

He grabs at it and makes a pitiful sound, his eyes still closed.

“Felix?” Eden gently brushes his hair back from his forehead.

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