I slide open the drawers, deliberately not looking at the message immediately so it can go on record that I’m not bothered. Not bothered at all.
Once I’ve packed away the last few items, I straighten and snag my phone from my back pocket, raising an eyebrow as I stare at the scene.
It must be some kind of nanny cam. Esme’s face looms large as she stares straight into the camera, obviously not clocking what she’s looking at. A few moments later, she’s by the window and turns.
G is staring over my shoulder and gives a low whistle. “Check out that arse, will you? If you’re taking requests for the future, a nice anal probe wouldn’t go astray. In fact”—he clicks his fingers, turning for the door—“give me five.”
It’s such a relief not to have him hovering, I don’t much care what he’s gone to do. My eyes pour over Esme. The lighting’s appalling but we’re close enough to the window to make out her expressions.
She looks scared at first. My stomach pulls a little tighter as I watch; in person, I’d eaten up her fear but on video it gives me pause. On video I don’t have the avalanche of emotions that consume my attention when she stands right in front of me.
Scared, then her face fills with longing and the pull hits again, harder.
I click off the video, considering my response. Quick thinking isn’t my specialty. My body works at a much faster pace than my brain.
Even so, I understand my current options. Get riled and try to stamp out this damn thing—an exercise in futility—or take it as a joke or even a compliment, the way Gareth presented it.
The first reaction isn’t really an option at all, so I guess I’m all in with the second.
“Nice to have a keepsake,” I say as G returns, holding a plastic shopping bag, a grin a mile wide on his face. Then, because he obviously wants me to ask, “What’s that?”
“Influencer goodie bag from my dad’s latest store launch.”
Gareth’s father owns a chain of the most recognised brand of adult toy store in the nation. I’m now genuinely curious despite myself. “Oh, yeah?”
“Has some anal beads in there. Just in case you ever find yourself before a camera again.”
“I’m not even sure how I found myself in front of this one.” I take the bag, peeking inside. There’s a lot more than beads in there. It looks like Epstein’s closet. I jerk my phone at him. “Who sent the link to you?”
“Tarryn. That’s his dad’s study you fucked in.”
The video is hosted on a private server, presumably so he can whack it down if law enforcement takes an interest. Still, I’d guess it’s made the rounds of Tarryn’s clique pretty quickly. I wonder how long it’ll take to reach Esme’s ears.
I walk with Gareth back to the common room, then clap him on the shoulder as a goodbye. Rugby practice starts in an hour and I need to go warm up. Coach is running performance reviews to determine our skill sets, and this is my first chance to impress him.
“Seb!” a girl’s voice calls out and I turn to be entangled by a pixie with pink, purple, and blonde hair. “You finally got a room, then?”
“Hey… Rowena.” Only the tiniest fumble but her eyes narrow, then she forgives me with an enormous smile. “Sure. I’m in first floor number forty-seven. Anywhere near you?”
She bounces on the balls of her feet, excitement radiating off her. “I’m just two down. My best friend is between us, Esme.” She aims a mock punch at my ribs. “If you’d bothered to stick around at Tarryn’s party you would’ve met her by now.”
It’s an uncommon enough name that it must be her. My skin sizzles with surprised excitement. Next door. I couldn’t have wished for a better location if I’d tried.
Rowena’s also as good as confirmed she hasn’t seen the video yet, so its circulation can’t have spread too wide.
She looks at me with an expectant air. “I’ll do better next time,” I say, holding my hands up. “But when you’ve sworn off alcohol and sex until the first practice is over, parties aren’t the greatest places to hang out.”
“You’ve sworn offwhat?”Her indignant squeak pierces my eardrum. “Coach can’t make you do that. Pretty sure it counts as torture.”
“I can go without for that long, no trouble,” I assure her. Excluding last night, for the past ten months my only intimate acquaintance has been my hand.
“Who the hell cares about you?” she says with her hands on her hips. “I’m thinking ofme.”
This chick is crazy fun.
There’s a pinch in my gut that I can’t let go of my vendetta against Esme. It would be so good to just go on a date and let loose. Start earning the same host of memories and regrets everyone else in my circle seems intent on racking up while they still have the energy.
It’s not healthy. I know that. But I watch my diet and exercise like a nut and take enough care of my body that it repaid me with a scholarship nobody expected me to earn.
