Page 65 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

So, instead, I wrap my arm around Caleb’s waist and hug him.

The solidness of him is still surprising to me. The tapering of his waist looks delicate, but there is nothing delicate about the muscles rippling across his midsection.

My reaction makes him tense so his abs feel even harder under my arm. I want to let him go simply to stop the chemical reaction happening in my own body, but I keep a tight hold.

I have to prove my point: I won’t be the butt of his jokes.

“That’s why we’re all here, right?” I ask with a smile. “A good time?”

J.C. and Noah hesitate, glancing at one another. I can’t help but notice neither of them brought a plus-one. But before I can become too self-conscious about my status as the only non-Golden Boy at the campsite, Noah gives me a half smile and shrugs, and J.C. rushes forward to press a cold can of beer into my hand.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says with a cheers that sloshes beer all over our hands and the ground. “To a good fuckin’ time!”

24

Haley

J.C. is a mess. The lovable kind, though.

He talks too much and pushes everyone’s buttons, but is also the one to drunkenly demand everyone stop and play strip cornhole.

Then, he ends up running through the trees in his underwear while everyone else, still fully clothed, laughs.

Noah is quieter. Slow to laugh and slow to anger. I can see the emotion hidden deep in his eyes, but I don’t know him well enough to know what it is.

Not the way I can read Caleb, anyway.

I’m surprised throughout the day to not only realize how often I turn to find Caleb—to see what he is doing, where he is, or if he is paying attention to me—but also that the weeks we’ve spent together training, though fleeting, have accumulated into a visceral awareness of him.

I can feel when he is close to me without having to turn and check, and I can almost always guess what he is going to say before he says it.

“Take your top off,” J.C. yells through his cupped hands. He then pretends to grab the hem of his own shirt and peel it slowly over his head. “Come on, Caleb. You missed the cornhole by a mile. Time to pony up and show some skin.”

I imagine Caleb’s middle finger and sarcastic smile before he offers either.

And my eyes flash to his hand even before his fingers tighten around the beanbag and he rears his arm back to throw it at J.C.

Noah’s shoulders lift with a quick laugh as J.C. tucks tail and dodges the beanbag just in time.

It’s strange to see them all acting like normal teenagers. I imagined them brooding and endlessly partaking in crimes or street fights, so the image of them playing a backyard game and teasing one another is somewhat strange but welcome.

Especially because Caleb is finally not spending every second scowling in my direction or forcing me to go through endless rounds of exercises and defensive maneuvers.

I get to see him be a real-life, normal human.

Though, even when Caleb laughs and smiles at his friends, I can tell he is holding something back.

I just don’t know what.

When I was with John, the only thing I ever heard about was how terrible the Golden Boys were. According to every member of the Hell Princes, Caleb and his friends were evil, and I was to be wary of them at all costs.

I should have noted the irony that John wanted me to be careful of the Golden Boys, while, at the same time, leaving bruises across my body in strategic places that people wouldn’t readily notice.

Still, I feared the Golden Boys just like I thought I was supposed to.

If John was leery of them, they must be true monsters.

And I believed that up… until the moment I finally met Caleb.

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