Page 96 of The Ring
I already knew that. It doesn’t cause much of a stir in the group. We were all on the yacht when it happened, and most of us have had sex on a yacht at some point.
It’s TJ’s turn, and I tilt my head in his direction, feeling a bit on edge. I have no idea if he and Weberly, or he and another girl, have had sex anywhere out of the ordinary, but if they haven’t, I already know what his answer will be.
“In the headmaster’s office,” he says, looking at me, making me swallow.
In some ways, I feel almost relieved. As long as I’ve no concrete proof he’s slept with Weberly, I can still gaslight myself into believing he hasn’t. But at the same time, there’s a flicker of embarrassment that Benedict now knows this. He’s not an idiot. TJ may not have said who it was with, but I’m sure he can put two and two together.
As for the sex in the headmaster’s office—don’t judge. Having sex in a boarding school is a real hassle. It involved Annabelle sneaking out to TJ and West’s dorm to sleep in TJ’s bed, TJ sneaking into ours, or me sneaking into theirs while West sneaked into ours. And if the latter happened, I’d have to change my bedding the next day. Then there was the risk of getting caught. So when you found a clean space where you knew no one would walk in, you took advantage of it.
How did I end up with the key to the headmaster’s office in my possession? Well, that’s a story for another time.
West chuckles. “Nice.”
I glance at my friends to gauge their reactions—they all seem gobsmacked. It seems we may have a winner for this round. The only person completely unfazed by TJ’s answer is Annabelle. She’s the only one who already knew.
After getting the key and confirming it was real, TJ and I came to an agreement to keep it to ourselves. If we’d told the group, they might have wanted to use it, and we wouldn’t have denied them, but eventually, like any good hookup spot, word would have spread. Before long, half the school would have known, and it would have inevitably reached the faculty. And they would have changed the locks or done something to make sure it never happened again.
I had to tell Annabelle, though, after she accused me of doing drugs. Apparently, my habit of disappearing without explanation and returning all happy and relaxed was a bit too suspicious for her liking.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Laurie tells TJ, trying not to laugh. “You once gave me a talk about where to have sex and where not to, making it sound like you’ve only ever done it in a bedroom.”
“I did it because you like to have sex in public places,” TJ counters. Laurie opens his mouth but immediately closes it, probably because TJ’s right and because he doesn’t like to talk about his sex life. “And we… I,” he corrects himself quickly—an honest mistake, as for so long there was always awe, “have never had sex in public places.”
Nate, who’s been lost in thought, looks at TJ and then me. “Were you two the ones the assembly was about?”
I freeze. There was an assembly about someone sneaking into the headmaster’s office, but they didn't mention anything about sex. They went on about security concerns and said they planned to install cameras in the office and the corridor leadingto it.
Having to sit through that assembly with a straight face was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. We didn’t tell anyone about having the headmaster’s office key to avoid getting caught, but we managed to do it all on our own in less than two months.
I shrug. “Maybe.” We probably were, but it’s also possible someone else had a key. “Can we get back to the game?” I turn to West, whose turn it is to answer.
Everyone else does too, because if I had to wager whose answer would be the wildest out of all of us, my money would be on West.
West looks at TJ—I think it’s because he knows what his answer will be—but then his gaze shifts to me, and he says something I never thought anyone would say.
“In Cornelia’s bed.”
Well, other than me and TJ. And Benedict. And Nate. And Robert… Now that I think about it, it’s a rather long list. Longer than I ever wanted it to be. I would have been perfectly fine if there had only ever been two names on that list, but fate had other plans. And now, it seems, two more names had been added—without my consent.
“What?” everyone says at once—except for Weberly. She doesn’t know me enough to understand how big of a deal this is.
“It wasn’t with her,” West says immediately, gesturing at me but looking at TJ—like he’s worried he might think he slept with me.
“Of course it wasn’t.” I’m mad that this is even a topic of discussion. “When was this?” I demand, glaring at him.
I want to jump on him and attack him, but given what he just said, people might misinterpret that.
I need to know when this happened. If it were in the bed I have right now, I might need to get a new one before I can eversleep in my bedroom again. Maybe even replace all my furniture.
“At your seventeenth birthday party,” West replies.
I think about it. That year, I threw a Greek gods-themed party at my house here. So he had sex in the room I sleep in almost every night. I would have much preferred it if it had happened in my family’s flat in Paris or Monaco—or in any other of my rooms in my family’s properties. But no, it had to be inthatone. At least none of my current furniture witnessed the act. My room was remodelled a few months later.
I try to think back to who he was dating back then—or more like seeing. West doesn’t date. But my mind is blank. I could ask him, but I’m not sure I want to know. What if I know this person? And every time I see them, all I can think about is that they had sex in my bed.
It hits me. TJ and I had sex that night in my room—right afterthem.
I look at TJ, and he locks eyes with me. He seems to remember the exact same thing because he has the same disgusted expression on his face that I assume I have on mine. But as I think more about that night, looking into his eyes, I remember how, after everyone had left, we started tidying up a little. The maids could have done it, but I didn’t want to leave them a complete mess (we still did, but it’s the intentions that count). While we were cleaning, I don’t remember what he said that annoyed me, but I threw a plastic cup at him—without realising it had liquid in it. It splashed all over his white toga, and that started a war of tossing plastic cups at each other. Not long after, we were both soaked in different kinds of alcohol. He took me to my room, helped me out of my heels, and I kissed him—over and over—before pulling him into bed. I was disgusting—dirty, and sticky. Normally, I would have rushed to my bathroom to shower, but I didn’t. It was one of the rareoccasions I didn’t care that I was filthy, or that both our wet, dirty clothes touched my bed.
