Page 82 of A Dead Man's B-Side
August cleared his throat. “So… what’s good on the menu?”
Ajax rolled his head back and spoke through a groan as he cracked his neck. “It’s pretty bland for all its exclusivity. I say get the burger.”
I blinked at Ajax, and August did the same. It was the first time the athlete said anything remotely helpful towards him.
Maybe Thaddeus was onto something.
“Usually you’d start with an appetizer, though,” Wolf added helpfully.
“I think we should be taking this time to strategize.” Rain cut in, softly placing her menu down on the rich wooden surface.
“Strategize on what?” Ajax said with an antagonizing tone, and I could tell that he had picked up on what she might have been insinuating. If Rain must treat us as equals, she sure as hell wasn’t going to make it quite so simple. I’m sure she’d try establishing a hierarchy of sorts in due time.
She sighed heavily, as if to say, “some people just aren’t as smart.” Instead, she settled for, “There is much to be discussed.”
“Ajax,” I interjected. “What sport do you play again?”
“He plays football.” Paris scrunched her face at the words as if she were spewing poison.
Ajax’s face tightened when Paris spoke for him, but he nodded, nonetheless. “Yeah, that.”
I could sense the tension radiating off Rain at my shift of conversation.
“You lie a lot, did you know?”
Paris’ voice rang from behind me as we entered the Quarters far too late in the night to consider getting any proper sleep.
I didn’t hold the door for her, letting the heavy wood close behind me. The thud of the door sounded and her muffled groan followed.
“You’re a right git, you know that?”
“Lovely, more questions. Anything else?”
“Want me to dye your hair?” I paused, reluctantly turning to face her, and listening to the retreating steps of the other five members shuffling back to their respective rooms.
“What makes you ask that?”
She shrugged. “Intuition. Besides, this will be a great bonding experience.”
I moved my weight to lean on one leg. “I think we’ve done enough bonding for one night.”
She snorted. “If that’s what you want to call what happened tonight. Besides, there’s always room for more bonding.”
She raised her brows in enticement and—well—that was how I found myself, well past midnight, sitting in Paris Vega’s chair, as she threw a hair-cutting cape over me. “Alright, Alex?”
I watched her through the mirror facing us both. “I never paid much attention to your accent.”
When she’d unlocked her door and shuffled us inside, she removed her heeled boots and slipped into fluffy white sandals right at the entrance before dancing into the bathroom. I’d stood awkwardly by her door for five minutes before she’d come out in a comfortable-looking night gown, humming the same tune as when she’d entered.
In those five minutes, I’d looked around at the array of pillows and blankets, a fur throw hanging over the side of the twin bed we’d all been assigned, and the slight mess of clothes littering the floor.
The plain dorm certainly hadn’t stopped her from decorating it as best she could. It was much nicer than mine and much more livable than Marigold’s. She had all sorts of candles on her nightstand and used her desk as more of a makeup counter than a study area, though I doubt that hindered her ability to receive top marks.
She had a cream carpet placed in the center of the room and an extra closet, though it didn’t seem to provide any help in terms of additional storage when both had all sorts of clothing and accessories hanging out.
She’d tied her hair back and gestured for me to get comfortable.
“Mmm, lots of accents at Castle Hill.” She began sectioning my hair as her lip twitched into a barely-there smile.
