Page 65 of Cruel Games

Orlando and Maxwell’s eyes widened as the guard approached. I ducked behind the second security guy, raced through the door to the cloakroom, and collected my coat.

The little voice in the back of my head told me that my deception would bite me in the ass on Monday when the boys returned to the academy, but right now, I wasn’t in the mood for self-recrimination.

Outside, I stepped into the cold night and hurried in the direction of Lachlan’s apartment building. A middle-aged couple stepped out of the main doors, and I slipped into the warm reception area and took the stairs to his floor.

After texting Gideon to tell him I’d left Wank and would meet him later, I sat on the doorstep and dozed until Lachlan and Gideon woke me in the early hours of the morning.

Chapter 23

After a leisurely Sunday breakfast at Lachlan’s place, I said goodbye to Gideon and the boys and then walked to Buchanan Street to buy some supplies.

As I headed toward the bus stop to meet Mr. McGarr, the cold November wind seeped through my leather jacket, reminding me that Christmas was only seven weeks away.

A few students from the academy waited in line, including one or two I recognized from tailoring club. Everyone was still talking about Elizabeth, who no-one had seen at the academy since her supposed meltdown.

I blocked them out, focusing on the passing traffic. That had been a tantrum. The actions of a spoiled brat pushing her luck and seeing how far she could go with her bad behavior before someone dished out a well-deserved punishment.

“Hello, Hancock.” Maeve strolled over with a black-haired boy in our year. “Finished shopping?”

I smiled. “Something like that.”

Her gaze dropped down to my overnight bag, and she grinned at me, her green eyes twinkling. “Don’t tell me you stayed out all night.”

“Alright, I won’t tell you.”

“Do you have a boyfriend in Glasgow?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Hancock and Deloraine are an item?” The boy frowned. “Or Hancock and Adewale?”

A smirk crossed my lips. The truth was far more complicated. Last night had been almost as hot as that time in the back of the limo.

A small part of me had been tempted to go back with Orlando and Maxwell, have that spit roast and throw myself at the mercy of Mr. Burgh if things went horribly wrong.

“Are you seeing them both?”

I shook my head. “We’re just friends.”

The arrival of Mr. McGarr’s minibus cut short their speculations. Everyone crammed themselves in the front seats to continue gossiping about Elizabeth’s mental state, but I stretched out at the back and dozed through the entire journey.

In my dreams, it was three men kissing and caressing me instead of two.

On Sunday evening, I stepped into the dining room to find most of the tables occupied. Mr. Burgh chatted with Mrs. Campbell, and Mr. McGarr sat on the other end of the table, laughing with the teacher whose identical red hair and similar features made me suspect they were brothers.

Elizabeth wasn’t at her usual table. Instead, I met the stony faces of Orlando and Kendrick.

Blue balls were apparently a bitch.

I walked over to the table I shared with Gideon to find Kendrick giving me his most ferocious scowl. Ignoring him, I lowered myself into my seat and took a wholewheat roll from the breadbasket.

“I heard you met Maxwell and Orlando last night,” he said.

“So?” I pulled the butter dish close and carved myself a generous piece.

“What’s going on between you three?”

Memories of their busy hands, soft lips, and hard dicks invaded my mind. Heat rushed between my legs, and I clamped them together. Getting off on the dance floor, in full view of everyone in the nu-jazz room, had been the hottest experience of my life.