Page 67 of Hide and Seek
Rather than examine that bit of insanity, I fix my gaze on the ground and watch where I’m stepping. It’s as dark as midnight now, and I need to be careful so I don’t face-plant and hurt myself.
The silence that stretches between us isn’t strained or uncomfortable, and I try not to think too hard about anything that’s happened since I left my room.
The walk is shorter than I thought it would be, and we reach the edge of the woods far sooner than I expected.
“Do you know where we are?” he asks after we’ve stepped onto campus.
I sweep my gaze around our immediate area and nod. We’re about a quarter mile from Boone House.
Without another word, he slips back into the trees, his dark clothes blending into the background until he disappears from sight.
My chest goes tight with something I can’t name as I jog toward Boone House and take inventory of my body now that I’m not so distracted by his presence.
The noticeable twinge and the dull ache in my ass remind me that I lost my virginity tonight, and my wrists are sore from the rope burn I stupidly gave myself. Other than that, I feel fine, and I toss a quick look over my shoulder to scan the darkness for any signs of him, or anyone, as I try not to think about how badly things could have gone.
Tonight was a mistake, and I’m damn lucky I’ve only got some rope burn and a sore ass as souvenirs.
The smart thing would be to chalk tonight up to a momentary lapse in sanity and go back to my room and destroy the cameras.
Too bad I know I’m not going to be doing the smart thing, and the excitement and anticipation already brewing inside me at the thought of doing this again tell me that I sure as fuck didn’t learn my lesson.
16
JAX
I lookup as Jace throws the door to our room open and strides inside.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
He shrugs and shoots me one of his trademark lazy grins. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” I say dryly. “And that’s why you look like you got mauled by a bobcat?”
He waves dismissively and heads over to his wardrobe. “It’s nothing.”
“If you say so.” I sweep my gaze over his back as he pulls the heavy wooden doors open and grabs a fresh shirt from one of the shelves.
“It’s nothing,” he repeats as he closes the wardrobe doors and tosses his clean shirt on his bed.
“Uh-huh,” I say dubiously.
“I got in a fight.” He pulls his dusty and torn shirt off and tosses it in his hamper.
“I can see that.” I give him a once-over. He’s not hurt, but between the bruises forming on his chest and arms, the tear in the knee of his jeans, and the swollen red mark on his leftcheekbone, whoever he fought with got a few good hits in. “Do I need to ask if Xave is still standing?”
“It wasn’t with Xave.” He yanks his clean shirt on and rakes his hand through his hair to push the strands back from where they’ve fallen over his face.
“Are you going to tell me who it was with?”
“No.” He doesn’t look at me as he goes over to his desk and roots around in one of the drawers.
“You’re pissed at me.”
“I’m not pissed.” He slips something in his pocket and closes the drawer with his hip. “I’m just tired of you lying to everyone, including yourself, about what’s going on.”
“I’m not lying to anyone, not anymore.”
“So you admit you’re attached?” He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a hard look.
