Page 33 of Kingston
“I saw what Bridger did.”
I freeze. On one hand, I want Dane for an ally. If he knows my guys well, he’ll be important. Not to mention, he’s nice. But on the other hand… I don’t want special or preferential treatment of any sort.
Almost as if he reads my mind, Dane shrugs. “It’s your call if you say anything about it, though.” His jaw works back and forth as we stare at each other. He gets it, I think. I need to do this without help, and I don’t want to look like a weak female. Not a chance am I saying a damn word.
“There were no rules specifying we couldn’t act like assholes, so I guess it’s all good with me.”
Hands on his hips, he murmurs, “Good call,” as he studies me. “Let’s get down there. They’ll be waiting.”
In the basement, all I have to do is follow the noise to know where they’re gathered. “Our poker room is through that door there.” Dane walks with me, side by side. I missed that room when I was exploring earlier today, probably too consumed by the photographs on the wall to notice anything after that. From the sound of it, there’s a rousing game in progress.
My eyes flick down the hallway to the bedrooms currently inhabited by Alec, Stuart, and Joel as we pass by them. The more I think about it, the more I’m concerned they might have been particularly vicious with Will. Bridger fits right in with them, he’s mean-spirited exactly like they are. But my friend would not have done well with these jerks. He’s smart, kind, and polite to a fault. A sweet guy. It makes me wonder for the millionth time what his life here was like. Why he ever thought being accepted into this brotherhood would be a good idea, I don’t know.
NINETEEN
KINGSTON
I grit my teeth,remembering my father’s growling voice on the other end of the line. I’d put off speaking to him for as long as I possibly could, but he wanted an update as to how things were going this year. As head of the house, the alumni brothers entrusted me with the Hawthorne Hall financial information as well as the entire initiation process for new brothers. I have no idea if other heads of house got the same treatment from their fathers or grandfathers, but shit. My father proves himself to be a complete hard-ass once again by assuming I’m going to fail. And after last year, I’m sure the alumni are plenty nervous as well.
Of course, it doesn’t help my state of mind that we really did bungle things when we chose Elliot. I should have been more present with the selection process, but I thought it was under control. I delegated, like a leader should. But I also should have been monitoring things. I fuckin’ screwed up, and that’s an ugly pill to swallow. The situation with her gives me a massive headache, and the semester has hardly gotten started. If any alumni, much less my father, knew we’re putting a woman through the initiation, there’d be hell to pay. And the almighty Jared Hawthorne would have a conniption fit, then rant for hours about tradition and the way things are supposed to be done.
I’ve heard it all my goddamn life. It’s so ingrained in my way of thinking that every time I look at Elliot, my blood pressure rises. Because this isn’t the way things are supposed to be done at Hawthorne Hall. But there also would have been hell to pay if we’d proceeded with one less initiate for a second year in a row.
Taggart and Bridger burst into the room within thirty seconds of each other and quickly count the spoils of war they’ve returned with. The more seconds slip by, the more disappointed I become. What’s taking Elliot so damn long?
As I’m ready to accept she’s failed her little mission, she hurries in, completely out of breath. Dane follows her, a look of relief on his face.
I stare at her, completely riveted. At some point, she must have knotted her hair on top of her head. Little tendrils have escaped, framing her sweaty, flushed face. My eyes are drawn to the way her chest is still heaving inside her tank top from exerting herself, and I rake my teeth over my lip, biting down. My heart thuds harder in my chest the longer I allow myself to drink her in. I groan internally, my guts twisting into a knot. She’s not even supposed to fucking be here and is bucking against all our rules. So, why is it every time I look at her, my brain goes rogue? I don’t know what it is about her, but the more she uses her sharp tongue on me, the more she willfully does what she’s been told not to, the more I want to show her who’s in control. Shaking my head a bit to clear it, I murmur, “Looks like someone had to make a run for it.” I flick my eyes to Dane. “Did she make it in time?”
“Yep. Right at the buzzer.” Dane slides a reassuring smile her way as she tries to catch her breath.
My gaze narrows. I know Dane too well to think he’s lying, but there’s something he’s holding back. I meet his eyes, and he nods.Yep.Something’s definitely up. “Archer? Do you want to fill Elliot in on the current standings?”
He stands up, readjusting the suspenders attached to his pants, and winks at her. “Of course. Bridger and Taggart are tied with twelve lovely pairs of lady panties each. Taggart arrived first, though, so that means he’s sitting pretty in first place. So. Either you win… or you lose, depending on what you’ve got in your backpack, Elliot.”
Bridger rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He’s not hiding his feelings at all—he’s not a fan of being in the position where he could lose.
“Problem, initiate?” My eyes bore into his, and I frown hard. I don’t like the way he’s handling himself. It’s juvenile. And uncalled for.
Bridger shakes his head, but I don’t miss his eyes when they shoot daggers at Elliot.
“No need to get bent out of shape yet, Bridger.” Alec snickers at his initiate and tips back in his chair, balancing on the back legs. He waves his arm toward the pile of underwear on the table. “Let’s see how good she was at coaxing the ladies out of their thongs.”
Picking up the bottle of beer in front of him and draining it, Stuart laughs. “What are you waiting for, honey?”
Joel finishes with, “Yeah, show us what you’ve got.”
Elliot’s brow quirks. I hold my breath as she steps up to the table between me and Archer and shrugs the backpack from her shoulders. She holds the bag in her arms as she unzips it, not revealing the contents. One second, she’s smiling at us, and the next, she’s dumped a veritable shit ton of women’s underwear all over our poker table. Shaking the bag a bit to dislodge the last few pairs, her eyes sweep the entire group. “Do I win?” She calmly sets the backpack down on the edge of the table and folds her arms in front of her, cocking her eyebrow at me.
Fucking hell.There must be at least fifty pairs of panties of all sizes, colors, and fabrics on the table. It’s a luxurious sea of frothy laces, satins, and silks.
Before I can respond, Bridger groans. His words are full of venom as he grinds out, “What the fuck? Seriously?”
“Whoa,” Taggart breathes out, but he doesn’t say another word, already admitting defeat. He’s probably satisfied that he didn’t come in last.
With a laugh, Archer holds up a hand to Elliot for a high five. “Impressive. Did you follow all the rules? These all came directly off women?”
Elliot tentatively slaps his hand with her own smaller one. “Yes. Of course.”
