Page 150 of The Unravelings

“It was an accident,” I sign, cringing. “He walked in on me in the shower and⁠—”

JJ growls low. “He what?”

“Oh, sweet Jesus. Calm down, Tarzan,” I sign frantically with a huff. “It’s okay. He’s keeping my secret.” For now, anyway.

He gives me a skeptical look, shaking his head. “Don’t trust anyone on this campus. For whatever reason, you’re pretending to be Oliver; you need to keep it to yourself.”

“Even you?” I sign.

He rolls his eyes. “I forgot how much you like to irritate me.”

I poke his chest. “Don’t be a jerk.”

JJ smirks, leaning in to rest his lips against mine, and pulls back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go buy coffee and burritos to cover up the fact that I spent the night with our dead ex-girlfriend and ate her pussy all morning. Or…not so dead,” he signs quickly.

“Thank you, JJ,” I sign, as I step away from the door. “Thank you for being with me during the storms.” And the mind-blowing orgasm, but I don’t add that part.

“I’ll have your new ID prepared for you for our study session tonight and some more evidence, okay? Meet me there.” He looks me up and down. “I’ll always come here when it rains, Olivia. I promise.”

And with that, JJ exits my room with Waffles on his tail.

“Fuck,” Simon howls with a bewildered look on his face when I step out of my room.

His wide eyes move between me and JJ. Oh, and JJ’s disheveled appearance. He stands frozen until JJ exits our dorm suite, taking my dog with him.

“Uh,” Simon says, frowning. “I feel like I missed something vital since I’ve been away. Oli?” he asks as a grin grows across his lips. “I feel like you have better tea than I do.”

Oh, boy, do I ever.

But how the hell am I going to explain this one to Simon without spilling all my secrets? Because, despite what JJ said, he’s right. Anyone on this campus could be hiding something. They could be a serial killer or the organ harvester. Even Simon. No matter how much he’s proven his loyalty to me.

I trust no one.

Not even my damn self.

42

Olivia

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” JJ hisses across from me at the study table in our private room. “You’re going to the fights? As yourself? A woman? Do you want to draw attention to yourself? Do you want the wrong people to find out you’re still here?” JJ asks with irritation, trying to snatch the ID back from me.

Rude. I get his frustrations. I really do. But I have something that I need to get back, and he can’t know anything about it.

I frown. “Hey! I have to go to it!” For reasons he won’t find out. “And I can’t go as Oli, or Mack will murder me in the damn ring. And do you want that on his conscience? Or yours?” I cock a brow, driving my point home.

JJ narrows his eyes at me. “That’s not playing fair. Of course, he’d hate himself if he set you up again. He’s already going to lose his shit that he did it the first time,” JJ sighs, slumping in his seat. “But this? Do you have to? You’re going to kill me,” he groans dramatically. “You’re seriously going to give me a damn aneurysm, and I’ll be in a grave next to your empty one!”

Ouch. Right. My empty grave. Poor guy. This must be eating him alive to keep my secret so close to his chest.

I shrug. “You’re being dramatic,” I deadpan with a huff. “Just go with it. And don’t try to take this back. I need it.” This time, I pull out all the stops and bat my eyelashes and pout my lips. He can’t resist me when I do this.

“Stop that,” he grumbles, waving a hand. “So, you’re going to what? Waltz into the fight all alone as Claire?” He tilts his head, realization sparking through his brown eyes. He curses under his breath. “No, you’re not, are you? Simon knows what you’re hiding under there.” He shakes his head. “Fuck. It’s a bad idea, Spitfire,” he says in a low voice, leaning over the table. “An epicly bad idea. No way I can talk you out of it?”

“Nope,” I say, tucking my newest ID into my pocket before he can confiscate it from me. “I’m going. That’s that.”

“Stubborn-ass woman,” he growls. “You’re going to get yourself hurt or killed. Again.” He tosses his hands in the air. “Are you ever going to tell me why you’re…” He gestures to my Oliver mask, pleading with me to confide in him.

I eye him wearily. Should I spit it out? “Oh, hey. I’m a secret agent!” I think not. One day, I’ll tell him why I’m here. One day, when I’m sure they’re innocent of the crime, my mind vividly remembers.