I nod my understanding. “Kingston is with Cannon?”
“Yeah. But don’t worry about that right now. You sure you’re okay, Peaches?” Archer eyes me warily, reaching out to smooth my wild hair.
My heart beats a mile a minute, and I’m sweating and finding it hard to calm myself down after all the insanity that game brought my way, not to mention the sprinting all over campus. I self-consciously pat the other side of my hair and offer him a small smile. “Yeah. I’m good. There were some minor issues along the way, but I took care of it. Tag and I worked together some.”
He gives me one of his signature impish grins. “Smart. Nothing in the directions said you had to figure it out alone.”
“No one said you couldn’t steal cards from others either, I guess.” I give an eye roll.
Archer’s gaze narrows on me. “Bridger.”
I nod once, looking away.
“That little bastard. I knew he’d pull something.” The muscle in his jaw twitches faintly. I’ve noticed it takes a lot to work Archer up, but… this seems to do it.
I draw in a breath. “Yeah. Like I said, I took care of it.”
“Not digging the lack of information you’re giving me, Peaches.” His thumbs are hooked behind his suspenders, and he slowly slides them down and back up. Down and up. Repeat.
I press my lips together, taking in the way he’s studying me, knowing that if he does it long enough, I’ll spill my guts, because I can’t ever seem to hold back with Archer. He can handle a lot of BS and is always so matter-of-fact and focused on coming up with a solution—nothing seems to faze him. Everyone sees him as the funny, witty, smart guy. But he’s shown me that he knows how to listen and not judge. I’ve seen his kind heart when he’s shown me genuine compassion.
In any case, from the way Archer is eyeing me, he’s not happy even without the entire story, so if Bridger didn’t think about the consequences to his actions earlier, he really should have. But I suppose that’s what happens when you don’t properly assess your opponents’ strengths and consume enough alcohol to encourage dumb shit. I’m absolutely certain six shots was a terrible idea.
I glance through the door, seeing Taggart has made it back. He’s talking to Zeke, his arms moving about as he explains things. We really should have discussed whether we were telling everyone exactly how everything came to pass tonight. I hold one of Archer’s hands in both of mine and lean my head on his shoulder. I wonder how much longer they’ll wait for Bridger before they send the juniors out for him. I tip my head back, noting Archer’s twitching jaw again, and whisper, “What time is it?”
“Close to eleven. You took a little over an hour.” He glances over toward the juniors who speak in hushed tones. “I think they’re deciding at what point they have to go fetch Bridger. Poor Little B bid a few too many shots.”
I laugh.“PoorLittle B mistook the flying pig in the first clue for something in the biology building. I don’t think he’s coming back with that card, even if he has everything else.”
“Yeah well, he definitely was offered an invitation more because of his daddy being a senator than anything else.” Archer winks. “You know, you don’t have to wait for Bridger. You were clearly first in, and you brought us all four clue cards and your key. If you want to call it a night, you can. Big day for you tomorrow, finally going back to class and all.”
I bite my lip, squinting up at him. “I was thinking about going to see Cannon before I went to bed, if you thought that was okay.” I pause, feeling Kingston’s presence before I actually see him. Maybe it’s the way everyone in the other room has gone completely silent.
He appears at the door, hurrying in when he sees me. “How’d it go? Are you okay?” His eyes blaze with urgency. He totally wants to grab me up the same way he did Archer earlier, but— He can’t. I see the war he’s having with himself over whether he should hold back or take me into his arms. But in the end, tradition and rules win out. I’m still his initiate.
But he was worried about me. Really and truly worried; it’s written all over his face. I exhale sharply and find tears welling in my eyes. “I’m fine,” I say quietly. “I was first.”
Archer shoots me an apologetic look before he grits out, “There’s some shit she hasn’t quite come clean about with Bridger.” He pauses while Kingston’s brows shoot up on his forehead. “And she wants to see Cannon.”
Kingston’s jaw works back and forth as he studies me. “About Cannon, we figured you would. He can’t hide from you forever. Just promise us that if anything happens, you will come get us or at least send a text or something.” Kingston clears his throat, his eyes meeting Archer’s. “And as for Bridger…”
I grimace, and just as I’m about to fill them in, from upstairs we hear the front door slam open and shut again. All three of us exit the poker room, waiting. First Dane appears, his lips pinched tightly together, and directly after that, there are some muttered curses as Bridger stumbles down the stairs behind him.
My eyes widen as he comes into view, visibly limping and swaying on his feet. He’s holding up the final Hawthorne Hall key. “I win! I got the motherfucking key!” He jabs his pointer finger at me and then at Taggart. “Losers! You fuckin’ lose! Woo!”
Holy shit. He’s trashed.
Kingston holds up a hand. “You might want to slow your roll, there, Bridger.”
But he doesn’t listen, instead his eyes widen, focusing on me. “And you!” He leers at me before he looks around the room. “This is why we don’t have women in a brotherhood. She fuckin’ kneed me in the goddamn balls!” He grabs himself, thrusting into his hand, his voice loud and boisterous.
Zeke snorts, elbowing Stuart, and speaking behind his hand. “Who knew your man was a lightweight? He’s toast.”
Oh, shit.From beside me, I sense the slowly burning fury rising within Kingston, and out of the corner of my eye, I totally see it as he shakes his head, eyeing Bridger and his idiocy. I suck in a breath. Things are on the verge of going south quickly—notthat I don’t think Bridger deserves whatever is coming to him. Kingston rubs his hand over his stubbled jaw, then gestures to Archer. “Arch, you want to award the points for tonight so everyone knows exactly where they stand?”
Nodding, Archer motions to the juniors to collect their drunk initiate and sit him on the couch. He holds up the key that I’d brought in, along with the four cards. “Elliot arrived first. Three points.” He nods toward Dane, who holds up Taggart’s key and cards. “And Taggart was next in at two points.”
Bridger lunges to his feet, nail-spitting mad. “What the fuck. Why are there three keys? Are you kidding?”
