Page 57 of The Deceptions
Whatever the fuck that means. But I take another note as I reach under my shirt, eager to free myself from the uncomfortable bindings on my chest and start to lift my shirt. I can’t wait to take a full breath without feeling like an elephant is on my chest. Just two more seconds to freedom and then I can change into my sweatpants and go to sleep.
If only that were in the plans for me tonight when my bedroom door bursts open, bouncing off the drywall.
I rear back, instinctively reaching for the knife nestled between my mattress and box spring, but stop dead when Simon bounces into my room with his phone lighting up his grinning face.
“Oli!” Simon shouts with glee, launching himself onto my bed.
Doesn’t he know what a personal bubble is? Or knocking, for that matter. Maybe I need to invest in a chain lock of some sort.Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll call Jordy and tell him there’s a party and then force him to help me.
Cool. Good to know my roommates will burst into my room without warning, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Well, except for discussing boundaries with him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to beg him to knock as I carefully remove my hand from beneath my shirt. It’s a good thing I wasn’t topless yet. That would be an awkward conversation on the first night of knowing each other.‘Oh, hey, by the way, I don’t really have balls.’
Lesson number one million–never get too comfortable in your surroundings when you’re undercover.Jonathan’s voice rings in my head as I give Simon a tight smile, hiding the exhaustion pulling at my limbs.
I need to shut my eyes for like two seconds. Is that too much to ask?
“Simon,” I say, breathlessly.
“Look.” Simon holds up his phone with a grin, displaying the SlamApp. “This just popped up. Party on Syndicate Strip.”
My nose wrinkles. “Syndicate Strip? Isn’t that a place in Vegas?”
Simon snorts. “Could be. But it's what we call the frat houses here. Or, not so frats.” He leans in slowly. “Remember how I told you some kid was a part of the mob? Well, there’s more of them, and they throw the best fucking parties on the planet. Just don’t get sucked into their initiations, unless you want to join. They live in the old frat houses. Besides, these guys have a margarita machine and a dog. Although you shouldn’t touch him, he hates everyone but them.” Simon wrinkles his nose, rambling more about the frat and how we should go to the party.
I blink several times. “Right. A margarita machine. I don’t know, Si. I’m tired and…” Attempting to come up with any excuse possible not to be dragged to this. The last thing I want to do is run into Hux, JJ, or Mack again. I’m too fried from seeingthem earlier. I don’t know if my brain can handle a party filled with rowdy college kids ready to stay up all night.
“Oh, come on, OIi! Please! It’ll be so much fun to experience this with you.” He bats his eyelashes and puffs out his bottom lip. “Besides, it’ll give you a glimpse at the gangs of Greenwood in all their glory. You should see how they try to outdo each other. It’s like a competition and them begging you to join their ranks or whatever. I’m neutral, though. I just like the parties.” He bats his eyelashes a few more times as I weigh my options.
I could tell him I want to go to bed and say forget the party, but what kind of agent would I be? It’s prime time for spying and recon. I can watch everyone in their natural habitat before classes start and before the fight next week.
I lick my lips, watching as the hopeful expression on Simon’s face grows. I’m so going to regret the next words that come out of my mouth.
“Fine. Take me to the party,” I chuckle when he jumps from the bed and throws his fist in the air in victory.
“You won’t regret this, Oli! I swear!”
Yeah, he says that now, but I’m not convinced. I’m either going to be extremely happy getting a glimpse at how the gangs work as frats on campus, or I’m going to regret ever stepping foot into close quarters with them.
I’ve yet to decide which one.
I regret this decision.
Immediately.
Why did I allow Simon--someone I barely fucking know— to convince me to come to this party? No is a one-word sentence, after all. I should have said—no, Simon, I'm going to freaking bed. My tits hurt. My feet hurt. And I just want to pretend this entire adventure isn't happening. I need some Liv-time, far away from Oliver.
But I couldn't. This is all a part of the job. I'm Oliver Davenport—party animal extraordinaire, ready to go out at a moment's notice so I can spy on my peers and befriend my ex-best friends.
Good times.
Damn. I really need a drink. Something to drown out the tension bubbling in my gut and threatening to spew out my mouth.
From the moment we walked through the door of the frat house, my senses were assaulted by the stench of horny, drunk people. Jordy would fit in perfectly with this crowd. Me, on the other hand? I'll have to suffer through this for the sake of my case.
With barely a foot in the door, we bumped into fifty people loudly chatting, dancing, and drinking their lives away. The entire first floor of the large, Victorian-style mansion was overfilled with rowdy college students.
“Welcome to Greenwood U!” Simon shouts above the music, throwing his fist in the air. He bobs to the loud music I don't recognize and grins. “Follow me!” He waves me on, and I follow without hesitation.
Where else would I go? Certainly not in the corner where two people have their tongues down each other's throats and their hands exploring everywhere.
