Dangerous Game (Savage Hearts Book 1) by Elaina Jadin & Elissa Ryan

Author:Elaina Jadin & Elissa Ryan [Jadin, Elaina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jadin Press
Published: 2021-05-19T16:00:00+00:00

15

Harrison

The door of the Shack bursts open, strains of alternative pop-rock music and shrieks of laughter invading our private refuge.

“The dealer’s here,” Thatcher mumbles loudly around a mouthful of food.

I look up from my spot on the couch and eye him as he stands in the doorway of the Shack, palming a massive half-finished hamburger. The guy is always eating. I don’t know where he puts it.

“Which one? Cards or coke?” Yates asks without looking away from the big flat screen that’s currently hooked up to one of the game consoles.

Thatcher takes a moment to swallow down a big bite before answering, “Coke.”

Yates waves his hand. “Show him in.”

Thatcher disappears back outside, temporarily rejoining the boisterous crowd gathered at the big free-form pool on our estate.

It’s 10 p.m. on a Tuesday, but there aren’t any classes tomorrow because it’s a faculty day, so the party is in full swing tonight. The pool’s heated and we keep it open year-round because no one seems to give a shit how cold the air is, or even if there’s snow on the ground, as long as the water’s warm and the bar’s stocked.

“Hey, Reed, clear your fucking shit off the table,” I say, looking at the piles of crap he’s managed to spread all over the place. “Stop treating this place like your personal crash pad. And throw your trash away, for Christ’s sake.”

He grunts in protest but gets up from the plush leather chair and lumbers over to the coffee table, grabbing up an armful of stuff—empty cans of energy drinks, textbooks that look like they’ve never been cracked open, a pair of cleats, and a lacrosse jersey.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust as he scoops up the last of the items littering the large surface. “Is that a fucking jock strap? Goddammit, Reed! Find something to disinfect this table with, or I’ll fucking strangle you with that damn thing.”

“Okay, damn,” Reed mutters. “What’s crawled up your ass lately? You’ve been in a shit mood for weeks.”

“Just worry about cleaning the fucking table,” I snap, leaning back against the smooth leather couch cushions.

I scroll mindlessly through an app on my phone as he straightens up, not really looking at anything on the screen. It’s none of Reed’s business what’s irritating me, but my main fucking problem right now is that I’m bored and restless.

It’s always the same scene at every Temple House party—a hundred people hanging out at our big-ass pool, drinking themselves stupid until they eventually pass out somewhere. Everyone is trying to squeeze in some hard partying before the year wraps up and they leave to go back home or to start their summer internships.

That goes double for the seniors. It’s a toss-up between whether they’re partying to celebrate making it through four years here or to forget they’re about to be saddled with soul-crushing work schedules. Either way, the scent of desperation is in the air, mingling conveniently with an excessively carefree attitude.

Instead of the main house, we’re currently taking refuge in the Shack.

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