“You gave her your finger back,” I point out quietly. “Is that something you usually do when you hate somebody?”
“I didn’t say I hated her,” he mutters. “Only that I don’t feel like running around doing errands for her. You might be on her leash, but I’m not.”
Sure, of course not.
I tighten my grip on him, which makes him wince. For some reason, I don’t think it’s from my words. I eye the bruise on his jaw. Where else is he bruised?
“Trust me, you’ll want to help me. And she didn’t ask me to do this. I’m just getting ahead of a little matter that could escalate. Pandorawillmurder somebody if we don’t do this,” I say.
“What happened this time?” he asks.
I’m surprised he hasn’t heard, but I’m glad too. Maybe it won’t be the talk of the college.
Pandora can handle herself, but I want to spare her this indignity, too.
“I’ll tell you later,” I say. “Now come on.”
I hear River sigh, but he follows me back into the engineering building and to the elevator.
“We’re going down,” I tell somebody who tries to follow us in. She sighs and backs off.
“Down?” River repeats. “Why?”
“It’s a shortcut.” I hit the button to take us to the tunnels. We’re starting to get to the time of year when more students will be using these, but for now, the tunnels are still mostly empty. We hear footsteps farther down the tunnel, and some giggling from a few students.
I lead us away from those people and in the direction of the tunnels leading to the gym.
“We could have walked above ground,” River mutters.
“We could have,” I agree. “But it wouldn’t have been as entertaining.” Then I hold my finger up to my lips.
As we walk, we start to hear voices and the soft sound of music. It echoes through the empty concrete, their location hard to pinpoint if you don’t know what you’re doing.
Thankfully, I spent enough time memorizing these tunnels to know exactly where I need to go. At the next intersection, I take us away from the gym and closer to where the sounds are coming from.
“Isn’t that—” River whispers. I hold up my hand to tell him to quiet down. He glares at me, but at least he obeys.
The tunnel opens up into a larger maintenance area. The smell of vape—cinnamon vape—assaults my nostrils.
Sitting on chairs around a set of speakers are Tate, Brock, and Holden.
River’s expression has gone dark and furious, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. He glances at me, taking a deep breath, then looks back at our other frat brothers.
“Having a party without us?” I ask as I step into the light.
Tate startles and drops his vape. “Fuck. Blaze. What the fuck are you doing here?” His gaze slides over to River, and he grimaces. “You get lost? The gym’s the other way.”
“Nah. I just thought I’d see how you’re doing,” I say.
Brock tenses up, and he pulls his hand, the one in the cast, closer to himself. “Tate, let’s get out of here,” he hisses.
“No need to leave on our account,” I say. I pick up Tate’s dropped vape. “I’d have thought you’d be put off by the scent of cinnamon.”
“I’m not the one with the allergy,” Tate mutters.
“No bad memories?” River growls. “No regrets? Just don’t care at all, huh?” He takes a step forward.
“Come off it. We’ve already been punished for that,” Brock says. “I’m off the team for the rest of the school year. I’ve got to fucking hope my hand heals right and I can play next year. If it doesn’t, maybe I’ll get my parents to sue you.”
