The Feral Boys’ den is louder than usual tonight. Beer cans pile on the counter. The floor is sticky in patches and the air smells like sweat, testosterone, and the faint ghost of weed. The TV dominates the room, sixty inches of flickering porn set to mute, bodies in motion but all the noise is provided by the idiots on the couch.
Julian’s at ground zero, feet on the coffee table, silk shirt half unbuttoned. He’s got a beer in one hand and the remote in the other, toggling between the video and the news.
He glances at me over the bottle. “Good to see you, dickhead. Was starting to think the new girl scared you off.”
“Shut up,” I say, dropping onto the other end of the sofa. “She’s gunna be a pain in my ass.”
“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t bleed,” Julian grins.
Colton’s on the floor, back against the wall, arms crossed. He’s got his phone out, but he’s not looking at it. He’s watching me.
Rhett sits in the corner, throne of pillows, legs crossed. He’s wearing a tie, for fuck’s sake, but he pulls it off. Rhett always does. He’s the only one of us that actually looks better after a fight, which is annoying as hell. He swirls his drink—a real glass, not a can—and raises it.
“Surprised you’re not home with your girl.”
“Needed a guys night. I’m heading home in an hour. She’s on a baking spree and my fuck, some of the shit she makes is disgusting. Peanut butter and pickle muffins.”
“God, that’s gnarly.” Colt laughs. “Well, cheers to almost all of us being here.”
Julian laughs, raising his beer. “I’ll drink to that.” He downs half of it in a gulp, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and pivots. “You see the tits on that transfer in calc? Red hair, sits third row, always biting her pen.”
I nod. “She’s got a boyfriend. Douchebag on the rugby team.”
“Not anymore,” Julian says, smug. “She dumped him after she saw my abs.” He slaps his stomach, which is shredded, but not as much as he thinks.
Colton shakes his head. “She dumped him because he got caught cheating with the captain’s girlfriend. You’re just a consolation prize.”
Julian doesn’t miss a beat. “All the better. Less work for me.”
Rhett smirks. “You ever think about doing your own work, Jules? Or is your plan to just catch all the rebound ass in the tri-state area?”
“Why fix what’s not broken?” Julian leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “Speaking of, you hear about the East Wing? Heard it’s infested.”
“Not rats,” Rhett says, glancing at me. “Royalty.”
I don’t rise to the bait. “You meet her yet?”
“No, but I’ve seen her. She’s got the walk,” Rhett says, face going sharp. “You know what I mean?”
I do. The way she moves through the crowd. Not just confidence—entitlement. She expects everyone to move. They do.
Julian makes a face. “I’m surprised you haven’t gotten in her face yet, Bam.”
“Waiting,” I say. “Want to see how she handles shit before I get involved.”
Colton pipes up. “I’ve been watching her. She doesn’t flinch. Even the faculty are nervous. She’s got a shadow most of them don’t see.”
“Bodyguard, huh.” Julian says, downing some beer before burping.
“More like a ghost. She’s covered, but not obvious. I think she’s got weapons on her, too.”
I snort. “Daddy’s little killer. Cute.”
Rhett’s eyes are dead serious now. “You know she’s not here for fun. She’s the Kings’ message. Board wants us to bejovialandwelcoming.”
I crack my neck. “Meh.”
Rhett shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “This is different. If she gets hurt, it’s not just a phone call to Daddy. It’s a funeral, for one of us. Or our families.”
