Page 11 of Her Devil

“It’s in your head,” I decide, his gaze flicking to mine, confusion plastered over his face. “The biggest fight we’re going to have to face is with ourselves. That was your issue the other night, wasn’t it? You got all stuck in your own head wondering if I was okay and then forgot to defend yourself properly. Once I was there, you were fine.”

“So we need to be more independent, is that what you’re saying?” He scoffs.

“Unless you were busy checking him out.”

“Sure,” he replies, rolling his eyes and throwing the ball at me.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll always have your back, you know that. But if we’re going to make it through, then we’ve got to prove ourselves individually. Make it so they can’t say no to either of us.”

“Makes sense,” he says, shaking off that uncomfortable unsure feeling he seemed to be having as he catches my throw. “And I’m better than you, anyway. No retreat, and no surrender.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “We’ve got this.”

“So, what’s Wyatt like?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Well, we’ve known each other for all of twelve hours, so yeah, he’s the best,” I reply sarcastically. “He snores.”

“Earplugs for Christmas,” he says, sitting up and throwing the ball back to me. “That I can do.”

“What about Oliver?” I ask.

“One older brother who’s studying to be a doctor or something medical, I think. His parents divorced a couple of years ago, it’s amicable but it means splitting the holidays between them, it’s a balance,” he adds, catching the ball. He balances it on the back of his hand before flicking it off and catching it in the other. “He won the first round, like you, and Wyatt won the second round, like me. Maybe we’re paired up intentionally on the back of the results.”

“So, what? They’re going to shuffle the rooms after every challenge?” I ask, catching the ball before throwing it his way. “I don’t think so.”

“I guess we’ll find out at some point,” he replies as a knock rings out on the door.

“You’re good,” I call, appreciating the gesture as Wyatt walks in, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“I just wanted to grab a book,” he says, gesturing to the shelves on the other side of the room.

“Stay, talk,” Jacob encourages. “Nick is shit at getting to know people, so don’t be offended that he doesn’t know half your life story already. He’s just socially anti-social.”

“Is that a thing?” Wyatt asks, getting his book and perching on the edge of the desk. “I think I might be one too if it is.”

“Someone did well putting you two together then, huh?” Jacob laughs, breaking the ice.

“Well, I do have a few social skills,” Wyatt says light-heartedly. “But shoot. What do you want to know?”

“Now there’s a question,” Jacob says with interest, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees, throwing the ball my way. “What are you studying?”

“Philosophy, Politics, and Religion. You?”

“Sociology, History, and Law,” he replies.

“I’m doing Law, Politics, Maths, and Psychology,” I add, joining in.

“Always the overachiever,” Jacob explains with a roll of his eyes. “And what brought you here?”

“I needed to gain a better understanding of the basics before undertaking my degree, or so my father told me, but it turns out there’s a little more to it than that.”

“Well, it’s good to know it wasn’t just us that was blind-sided,” I grumble. “Fucking parents.”

“Isn’t that the truth? But at least we’re not a million miles from a beach, I can still surf when the weather’s better,” Wyatt explains.

“You can surf over here?” Jacob asks. “I always just assumed that was something reserved for people who live on the hot side of the world. I can’t imagine it’s quite the same in the cold, dirty, British sea.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it,” Watt replies. “Yeah, it’s fucking cold a lot of the time, but it’s still good fun.”

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