Page 21 of Her Devil

No, wait, I do.

The cold shoulder in the elevator, the way she refused to turn and look at me, despite being more than aware of my presence, if the way she fidgeted with her fingers was anything to go by, and then she stood there with some other guy and drooled over one of my supposed friends, along with everyone else, but still...

To add insult to injury, she called me Jacob.

You’d think I’d be used to people getting us mixed up, we’re identical twins for fuck’s sake. But it annoyed me more than I thought possible that she didn’t know the difference. Well, why would she? We’ve spent barely three minutes in an elevator together and she had the best part of two hours in a lecture with him today. But she must feel this connection is different, surely?

Maybe not. Maybe it’s just me who’s got her under my skin. Her brushing me off was like waving a red rag at a bull. No is not something anyone ever says to me, and hell if that didn’t grab my attention. But seriously? Jacob?

And then, I couldn’t even grab a drink and make light of it. Oh no, someone had to be on babysitting duty, although that seems to have worked in my favour. Unfortunately, it also worked in Leo’s. I don’t know why he pisses me off so much.

Is it just because he knocked my brother out, or because they were paired together exactly for that? The whole match was engineered to knock me off my game, not that it did. Or perhaps it was the interested look on Jacob’s face and the tender way Leo reached for him as he stumbled?

He’s always been a little wayward, more free with his affection than me, but there’s something about this guy that grates, and I can’t work it out.

My phone pings again, a thirty-minute warning being received loud and clear as I look around. I opted to work inside the building, and it was a fucking mess, but at least it didn’t have that freezing fog. Jacob somehow managed to think straight enough to grab a jacket, so he ended up outside somewhere. Hopefully, he’s not got frostbite.

Dragging the full bag over to the bins, I stack it up with the other ones and give the main room a once-over. It’s still a mess. The two of us worked meticulously from the back of the building to the front, clearing every room as we went. What the hell was going on in the library, I have no idea, but there’s a whole stack of books for the librarian to return. Seemed like a better idea than shoving them on any old shelf and hoping for the best.

The librarian at our last school was a crotchety old witch, and heaven fucking help you if you put a book back in the wrong place. I swear to God she fucking knew, every time.

“How are you doing in here?” someone calls from the doorway.

“Just this and we’re done,” I reply, looking around. “Fifteen minutes and we’ll be good. Twenty tops.”

“Good. There’s a nightmare in building two, so head there when you’re done. It’s going to need all the help it can get.”

I nod as he disappears, running off to check in with one of the other teams, no doubt. The other guy in here, George, appears from a side room, dragging a bag behind him.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “I thought I heard something.”

“They need help in building two and were just checking in to see how we’re getting on.”

“I’m fucking dead,” he grumbles as I grab the bag, hoist it up and place it with the other ones. He lands heavily in the reception chair as I straighten up the decorations, grabbing a wipe and running it along the surface.

“Good time last night?” I ask, looking at the sweat that covers his brow, the alcohol practically leaking from his pores.

“Hell yes. Some of the girls here are really up for a good time.” He chuckles, clearly thinking back to something salacious.

I chuckle, nodding along like I have any idea what he’s talking about. But I don’t. George, Leo and Taylor stayed late, whilst I did two trips up and down the driveway to get everyone else back. I mean, it wasn’t ten o’clock or anything pathetic, and they’d all had more than a couple, but I have a feeling the three of them had barely got back before we were all pulled out of bed.

The gold thread through his mask reflects in the fluorescent lights overhead as he stands, grabbing another bag and making a start at the other end of the room. We’re finished and cleared through in fifteen minutes, after all, closing up the office behind us and making our way to building two.

A quick look around outside shows the guys have done a great job, you’d never have a clue the state it was in before we started. And as a fifteen-minute warning ping appears on our phones, we both do our best to hustle our steps, but the lack of sleep is catching up, and each step is harder than the last.

The atrium is still glowing as we get there, the lights continuing to flicker through their pre-set show, but there’s shit everywhere and nobody to be seen. “Hello,” I call out, but there’s no reply. “Fuck,” we say at the same time, the panic clear as we look at the mess waiting for us.

George rushes for the lights, and I head to the hay bales, starting to stack them together. He throws me a bag, pulling one out for himself as we start throwing cups and discarded trays of food in whole. We separated ours in the other buildings, but there’s no time for that now.

“Are you guys… Holy fuck,” someone says from the doorway, clearly not expecting this here either.

“We’ve just got here,” George replies. “Give us a hand, will you?”

Whoever it is calls outside, and another two people join him and make a start. The room is huge, the open space littered with bits of food and discarded glasses as someone calls out, “Help,” from nearby.

Dropping the bag, I rush over, having no idea what the hell they could need help with in here. Anyone can lift the hay bales, but when I get there, I see the issue. There’s some drunk guy passed out behind them, and as I check my phone, we’ve got less than ten minutes to get him out of here and back to his apartment, with no idea where the hell that is.

“He just said to get them back to a residential building,” I say, grabbing the guy by the collar and hoisting him up and over my shoulder. “He never said it had to be their apartment, or even the right building. How far is the closest one?” I ask, crossing the room.

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