Page 90 of Twisted Little Game

I shake his hand and I see the way he looks between me and Tate.

I hope he fucking feasts his eyes on the two of us.

I hope he can tell Tate sleeps in my bed.

“Going to grab another cider. I’ll… be right back,” Kian says, walking off in the opposite direction.

I don’t say a word to Tate once Kian is gone.

I stay there with Tate close to me, running my palm over his arm, situated between the ring toss booth and the edge of the stage where the live band was playing before.

He’s the first one to break the silence.

“Roman,” he asks me, “Hunter said he would instantly get an alert if my stalker was on campus, right?”

“Yes. He knows the guy’s unique phone identifier, as well as the geolocation of his accounts. At this point, he wouldn’t even have to make a post. Hunter always knows where he is.”

“So we would know if he was in town?”

“Immediately.”

I’ve never seen more obvious relief on Tate’s face.

He seems particularly glad to hear it, and I’m not sure why.

“Kian was just telling me that there’s a house party tonight,” Tate says. “I’m going to go with him. They have a keg.”

He doesn’t slur a single word, but he’s talking to me with a pointed, bitter undertone. I feel his hand come up to shove against my chest, and I clamp my arm around his shoulder harder.

“You need water, not a house party,” I tell him, leaning close to his ear.

“Fuck that,” Tate says softly. He turns his head to glare up at me. “Tell me why you agreed to this job.”

I cock my head to one side, looking down at him. “I don’t have to tell you fucking anything. Shut your mouth.”

He gives me a little shove on my chest and I reach up to clutch his wrist in my fingers, gripping tight.

“Jesus,” I whisper, looking down at the gold flecks in his eyes.

Whatever doubts that were still lingering inside me about my sexuality may as well have been obliterated by now, because of… this.

Him.

His smile is usually so sweet, but right now his expression is absolutely ferocious, like he’s ready to annihilate me, or something.

“Just tell me what you want⁠—”

“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” I utter, squeezing his wrist while he grips the front of my shirt in his hand. “I can’t fucking stand being around you because I want to fuck you, all of the time. I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so much. You’re impossible, Tate.”

“Stop.”

“You are this fucking angel, and yet… you are an absolute feral freak, all wrapped up into one person. You make me obsessed.”

A flash of blue appears in my peripheral vision and I glance up to see Kian again, a faint smile on his face.

I drop my hand from Tate’s wrist and his hand gently lands on my hip.

“Um, I found my friend Zoe by the cider,” Kian says. “We’re going to head to the house party. Did you guys, uh, want to join?”