“I knew it!” she says.
“What?” I raise my palms up. “I just wanted to see if he really knew Maria Devar, for when I win.”
My best friend smiles, her expression telling me she’ll believe me when the pigs learn to fly over a frozen-over hell.
“It’s true!” I protest. “And I wanted to work out how he even knew I was into Devar’s stuff. But I follow her and like all her posts, so I suppose that would have been easy to figure out. Which showshestalked me first.”
I sound way too defensive and I know it.
“Told you. That’s definitely how he knows about your costumes, too.” She grins. “But let’s not pretend I didn’t see what I saw last year. You guys have a thing. No point denying it.”
“I don’t link anything to my cosplay account. Too many doxxing creeps.” I wrinkle my nose. “And wedon’thave a thing. Last year was…a one-off.”
A three-off, but he only claimed one.
“Which brings us back to him asking the webs for the information.”
I don’t like that idea. Just looking someone up online is completely normal in this day and age, but getting IT guys to hack into my information seems like a step too far. I sincerely hope she’s wrong.
“So, does he know your designer?”
I bob my head. “She’s really his cousin. Lucky dick. An internship could change my life. If I show her I can be helpful?—”
I don’t have the kind of life that allows for a lot of daydreams. I can’t bring myself to hope for a lucky break at the expense of a stupid bet with a trust fund brat. In all likelihood, Maria’s going to be pissed her cousin forced her to take an intern she didn’t handpick, and won’t give me the time of the day.
But if?—
“That’s if you win,” Liv points out. “I can’t believe you were willing to gamble withthat.”
A blush takes over her entire face, though she looks impressed, rather than questioning my sanity.
“Not much of a gamble. They never win.” I dig into the delicious food, munching happily.
Several minutes later, after sipping all her soup, Liv replies. “Maybe they never had a reason to bother.”
20
LILY
Iquestion my sanity all the way to the Shark House. If I’d been alone, I likely would have turned right back to hide under my covers all weekend. All week, actually—up until the sharks officially lose their stupid game, just like they did for the lastyear. But Liv and Jack are practically skipping, excited for their first legacy party, so I begrudgingly tag along at the rear of the trio.
I kept them in my room as long as I could, so we arrive at eleven, which is a little early by my estimation, but the ground floor of the villa is nonetheless packed.
It’s warm enough for people to still hang out by the pool. I stare at it and grimace at the memory of dragging an unconscious body to the edges.
“It was drained and cleaned,” someone says, as though reading my mind.
I turn to find Nate, smirking as he approaches with two drinks in red cups.
I can’t deny I’m surprised; I would have thought the legacies too fancy for plastic. The wyverns certainly didn’t lower themselves to drinking beer like normal college students.
He hands the spare cup to Liv, who takes it instinctively, though she’s too shocked to be able to do much except gape at him open-mouthed.
“Welcome,” he tells us—orher, specifically. His gaze barely encompasses me and ignores Jack altogether. “Snacks on the left, drinks on the right, and party favors upstairs if you’re in the mood.”
“What kind of party favor?” I reply suspiciously.
Nate tears his attention away from Olivia to roll his eyes at me. “Whatever you’re in the mood for.” Then he’s back to Liv. “I can find you some wine if you’re not into beer.”
