Page 80 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

I knew from the jump that we’d be sharing a tent, but it doesn’t feel real until the remarkably small structure is set up and my sleeping bag is rolled out inside … just three inches away from Caleb’s.

We just had sex in the woods against a tree, so it feels stupid to be so nervous.

But I am.

I go into the tent first and slip out of my jean shorts and into a pair of cotton sleep shorts. I debate for a very long time whether or not to remove my bra before I decide there is literally zero chance of me falling asleep with the underwire boob prison on and discard it in the pile of my clothes at the far corner of the tent.

Caleb comes in as soon as I settle into my sleeping bag, like he’d been listening just outside the door for me to finish, and sheds his shirt and shorts with no visible self-consciousness.

The lamps J.C. and Noah are using are too far away to have much effect on the light inside of our tent, so I can really only see the rough outline of Caleb and a few shadowy features. When he stretches out on the sleeping bag next to me, he lies on top of it, and I can see his bare chest rising and falling.

I don’t know where we stand anymore.

We had sex, and he lied to his friends about the trouble I’m in.

But did he do that for my benefit or his?

Are we enemies? Frenemies? Perhaps, even, friends?

I want to ask, but I can’t seem to find the words.

“I can practically hear the gears in your head turning,” he grumbles.

His voice is soft, but the suddenness of it still makes me jump. “I’m just lying here.”

“You’re staring at me and thinking.” He rolls onto his side, facing me. “It’s distracting.”

“My thinking is distracting to you?” I snort. “Okay. My bad, I guess?”

“Yes. You’re bad,” he says, no hint of sarcasm. “Life is complicated enough without overthinking everything, don’t you think? We both have too much shit going on to add any more drama, so let’s just … leave this alone.”

This?What does that mean?

“This” as in our relationship? Or the sex we had? Or the fact that he lied to his friends about—

“Stop,” he groans, flipping onto his back and folding his hands over his chest. “For God’s sake, just stop thinking, all right? At least for tonight. I’m trying to sleep.”

I want to ask a million questions and demand answers, but I’m not even sure I know what questions to ask right now. And even if I did, I don’t know if I want the answers.

For this moment, I have a group of guys who have my back, and I don’t have to worry about John.

That’s enough … for now.

28

Haley

Somehow, I manage to actually fall asleep, and when I wake up in the morning, I’m lying on top of my sleeping bag with my arms over my head and my tank top pulled up to the top of my ribs.

The light coming through the tent is pale and watery—just the first hints of sunrise—but it is enough light to see by. More than enough light to look over and see Caleb’s mostly naked, sleeping form.

His chest is broad and muscled, and his torso tapers down to trim hips with black boxers sitting askew.

Caleb is annoyingly beautiful.

There are pale white scars across his hands and chest, nicks and cuts from years of using his body like a weapon. I want to reach out and touch him, feel the raised skin and convince myself of his humanity.

But my own humanity is too much of a distraction. Meaning, I have to pee.

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