Page 129 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

Eli’s arm is slung around her shoulder. He’s excited, too—outwardly. Caleb’s energy is more contained, held like a jar full of bees in his chest. I feel the same way. My limbs won’t cooperate. We’re on the edge of a cliff.

It isn’t just the game, either, or the night ahead of us. It’s tomorrow. Seeing Dad for the first time in seven years.

“Focus,” Eli says to me, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I jerk back and scowl.

“Yes,” Caleb answers Riley. “We’ll drop my car off at Ian’s house and ride together. Then we’ll be able to leave from the party whenever we want.”

I nod at his rationale.

“Great,” Eli hoots.

I slam my locker, books unloaded, and we join the throng of students exiting school. The pep squad—girls who weren’t able to get on the cheerleading team, apparently—has decorated the front of the building with signs and balloons.

We’re going to state!

Go get ’em, ERE!

Our mascot is a gold-and-black eagle, but it’s only used for sports. Liam mentioned that the school prides itself on the silver crest logo that appears on all documents and emails, hiding away from the fact that it even has a mundane mascot.

“An eagle isn’t mundane,” Eli had yelled. “It’s fucking majestic.”

Right.

Off to the side of the lot, cheerleaders are decorating two busses. I nudge Riley and lift my chin in that direction, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat.

“Party bus and athlete bus,” she says. “Football players and cheerleaders all ride together, and the party bus is for anyone who doesn’t want to drive to the game.”

“Ah.”

She grins. “It’s a big deal, the state championships. You know?”

“Not particularly.”

Caleb squeezes my hand, and I wave goodbye to Riley. We’ll see them in a few minutes, anyway. I slide into Theo’s car and wait for Caleb to shut his door. Apparently Caleb’s no-drive order only extends to when Eli’s mom is watching. But since Theo and Liam are getting ready for the game…

I lean over and touch his cheek, guiding his mouth toward mine.

The kiss is sweet and slow, and I pull back slightly. He’s already watching me.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“I can’t kiss you when I want?”

In truth, I have a weird feeling in my chest. I’m anticipating the distraction of tonight.

He smirks. “You can, but you don’t usually kiss like that…”

I bite my lip and ignore the heat that floods through me. I press my thighs together, trying to be subtle about it.

His eyes darken. He misses nothing.

“Maybe we should take a detour,” I suggest.

In response, he starts the car and pulls out, tires squealing. He takes me to the lookout we once went to and parks in the corner. There aren’t any other cars.

He pushes his seat back and pats his legs. “Get over here.”

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