Page 37 of Spin the Damn Bottle

Much to my surprise, I spy the boys out on the stallions, though they're supposed to be in the gym. Instead, they’re playing polo, hooting and hollering, calling out playful insults to one another.

"Typical," Nelly grumbles. "We're cleaning up and they're having fun."

I shrug. We could ride if we knew how.

For the most part, I ignore them, but every so often, I find myself glancing over. More times than not, my gaze lands on Jace. He makes for an impressive sight. He'ssogetting lucky tonight.

Like every night.

"Aren't they supposed to be in endurance class?"

"Ms. Palmer's sick.” I glance over my shoulder toward the voice, and see Christoph Billington right in front of the stall I'm cleaning up, and I still.

Good to know, but I prefer remaining ignorant to dealing with him. He took a lot of pleasure in bullying me when Jason gave everyone the green flag to do so. Worse yet, the way he looks at me gives me the creeps.

Chris thinks himself a hotshot, and maybe he is. I don't know him well enough to actually care. I'm not even sure if he knew my name before this year, but he certainly knew the shape of my boobs and ass.

Christoph just stands there, and it's not my job to let him know he's supposed to help out, so I just ignore him. I'm done sweeping and need to mop, so I move past him without saying a word, bend down to grab the water bucket, and return to my stall.

"You have such a nice ass." He licks his lips. I love when Jason does that, but everything about this guy repulses me. The wet sound, the leer. "I bet you're good at riding.”

I don't need a picture to guess what kind ofriding he's referring to—the kind that doesn't involve a horse, unless you consider Christoph an animal. Which I do. He’d claim he’s a stud.

"Want to go out sometime?" he asks, his smirk growing. "Or stay right here. We can roll around in the hay, since you're so at home in a barn."

Gosh, he’s so gross. "Not even in your dreams."

Christoph is a legacy. They don't tend to bother me much, so I'm not sure what his angle is here. Then again, maybe he doesn’t have an angle, and is just a creep. I decide he’s not worth givings the time of day, and besides, I want to finish up this last stall so I can get to brushing. I’ve been meaning to sketch some horses lately, and I need to see some up close to study them. I could try to do a kelpie for my next school project.

"Yeah? Well, maybe come to me when Alden dumps your cute, phat ass." He huffs a laugh. "You don't think he's serious about you, do you? Jason has so many pussies at his disposal, you can't even imagine. Nothing special about yours."

I should continue to ignore him instead of feeding the beast, but he's pushed far enough. "Well then, no reason why you should want it. And a good thing, too." I look straight at him. "I'll never want you. You're repulsive, entitled, and quite frankly, not that hot." I bat my lashes. "Now, this little discussion can stay between us. But one more word, and I spill everything to Jason later. How do you think he'd like you poaching hispussy?"

Anyone who knows Jason Alden can answer that question.

As I expected, Christoph huffs and storms off.

I let out a breath and glance out at the field. Jace catches my eye immediately. Oh, he's going to have questions.

Poor Chris.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"I'm going to kill him."

"You can't murder Chris for being gross. It's like killing a spider just because they're creepy. He can't help it."

"I can and I will," Jace announces cheerfully.

I could point out that murder would lead to jail time, but the truth is, he'd probably just ask his dad to cover it up. So instead, I remind him, "We're already running late. Are we plotting murder or are we going somewhere?"

He, unlike me, is dressed to kill, in black slacks, a buttoned-down ivory shirt open to his chest, and black shoes that look as if they've been polished for hours to a high shine. I imagine him making some poor student do it before class.

I'm wearing nothing but a towel, because he only informed me that I was supposed to get ready for ten minutes ago. "I don't have a fancy dress in my dorm room," I'd reasoned.

Then I remembered that I do, thanks to him.

In my walk-in closet, I look through the number of garments on hangers, flipping through various shades and fabrics. I could swear my collection of dresses and shoes increased in the last month and a half.