Page 72 of Burn Bright (Cobalt Empire #1)

HARRIET FISHER

“ Y ou came with Ben Cobalt, right? Is Charlie Cobalt here too?” a brunette with clear-framed glasses asks while Monster Mash blasts.

It’s the fourth time tonight I’ve been asked if I brought Charlie to the Honors House’s Halloween party. As if I can speed dial the eldest Cobalt boy and have the power to conjure him anywhere . He wouldn’t even accept a blow job from me.

My cheeks flame thinking about it. “Uh, no. Just Ben.” That Cobalt boy is currently off grabbing me a glass of punch from the bar—which I wouldn’t be able to tell you where it is. I got lost as soon as I entered the massive white-brick building.

The Honors House truly is a stunner with its four stately marble columns and wraparound porch, decked out tonight with cobwebs and six-foot skeletons.

Decorations aside, I’ve never been somewhere and thought, this is where I want to be .

But as I passed each room with oak-paneled walls and a cozy, academic atmosphere, this place has felt especially made for me.

I don’t want to feel that way.

Fifty people are at this party. Eleven of whom are already in the Honors House, and they’re vetting the rest for their twelfth and final spot.

My goal seems out-of-reach, especially when I was only granted this invitation because Ben worked his extrovert magic.

He wouldn’t tell me how exactly he did it, but I’m beginning to suspect it might have something to do with Charlie. Maybe?

Especially when the brunette says, “When Charlie shows up, can you just…nudge him my way? I’m a polyglot too, and I think we’d really hit it off—oh, shit, I haven’t even introduced myself.

” She passes her punch to her left hand to hold out her right.

“I’m Venus, yes like the planet, and I’m a third year at the Honors House.

” I figured she was a member because she’s not wearing a name tag on her shirt.

All guests have them.

Mine is stuck on a red-and-white striped T-shirt.

My bangs are blown out in Farrah Faucet waves, and these red shorts are seriously riding up my ass.

I’m not in love with the ’70s Slasher Summer Camp theme for this Halloween party.

But it’s my own damn fault for wearing hotpants when I could have been like Venus and chosen high waisted bell-bottoms and a comfy floral blouse with bell-sleeves.

Luckily, I’m not in danger of being booted from Honors House contention because of the short-shorts. I saw a member wearing a bikini top and a pair of cut-offs, so I don’t think they’re that stuck-up. This is still college.

Venus’ words ring in my head as I shake her hand. When Charlie shows up . Is he showing up? Did I miss this memo? “Sure,” I say, not even knowing if I’m lying. “I’ll give him a nudge.”

Her white skin goes rosy at the prospect. “Thank you.” She grins excitedly. “And of course, I know all about you through your application. I love how you got into Dr. Venison’s lab. She is a notorious stickler for only accepting seniors. You must be something special.”

I nod, my neck stiff. At a loss for words. I don’t know what to say. Agree with her and sound like a pompous jerk? Or downplay and risk coming across as a humble bragger, especially with my scowly face? Ugh, I wish I knew what to do.

“Punch.” Ben appears beside me carrying a paper cup of pink liquid. What I hope contains three ingredients and not ten that’ll make me barf, but I spy the Skittles and think, this is my kind of drink. Candy is my weakness. And the floating ping-pong eyeball is a nice spooky touch.

I take the punch, grateful for the perfectly timed interject. Being around Ben is like that. He has perfect fucking timing. He turns to Venus. “I just learned this is a plastic-free house, and I’m impressed. I’m going to have to bring your ways to Kappa Phi.”

Venus snorts. “Those guys would rather fuck a landfill than give up their Solo cups.”

I laugh. Okay, I think I could like it here.

Ben’s smiling too. “I believe it.” His hair is extra fluffy tonight, teased with the blow dryer, and his ’70s vintage gym shorts are just as short as mine. The green fabric really leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m not the only one who’s noticed.

Even Venus peers down at his dick.

Ben gives no shits. He knows he’s packing, and the fact that he’s 1.) not self-conscious and 2.) not cocky about being well-endowed is somehow more attractive.

I’ve blushed way too much tonight, and I’ve been telling myself to focus on his white ringer tee instead.

It says Camp Crystal Lake Counselor, an homage to Friday the 13 th .

Still, I have trouble not imagining Ben thrusting inside me.

I get hot just picturing his erection between my legs.

Our sex quest has yet to be completed. Fall midterms and his hovering brothers have been majorly in the way since the bar fiasco.

Ben could sense my exam stress, and he hasn’t wanted to be a reason I fail a course.

So right now, I can’t even reminisce on the reality of Ben fucking me. This is purely a tormenting fantasy.

I’m thwarted out of my carnal thoughts when a girl in pink overalls rushes over and grabs Venus’ arm. “Xander Hale is here.”

Venus lets out a soft gasp. “He actually made it?”

“Wait,” Ben holds out a hand. “Xander Hale is here?”

I feel unsteady on my feet, and I haven’t even taken a sip of my punch. Am I competing for an Honors House spot with Xander fucking Hale? I might as well go home.

“Yeah, his friend is a candidate,” Venus tells us.

His friend.

Okay, so maybe I’m not competing against Xander.

But I’m assuming the friend in question is Easton Mulligan, and is he any better?

He’s a chess champion and Xander Hale’s best friend.

In my head, being Ben Cobalt’s friend trumps being Xander’s, but I know not everyone feels that way. I am so fucking biased.

By the deep frown contorting Ben’s face, I think he’s gauging the worrisome levels of tonight. His hand slips to the small of my back as Venus and Pink Overalls hightail it down the hall.

“Isn’t Halloween a Hale thing?” I ask Ben. “Since it’s the Loren Hale’s birthday. Xander’s dad.” I realize how this sounds. “Whiiiich is your uncle.” I nod to myself. “You know this already, but okay, last I talked to Xander, he said he might go home to celebrate with the fam.”

“Yeah, sometimes we all do, but my uncle just had a big fiftieth last Halloween. So this year is more lowkey. There isn’t a giant party. Everyone in New York stayed here.” Ben is grimacing at a thought.

“This is bad, right?” I ask him into a sip of punch. My prospects of being an Honors House member have shot downward.

He expels an annoyed breath. “Why wouldn’t Easton say anything about applying for the Honors House? We see him at Board Game Club.”

I shrug. “It’s not like I mentioned it to him.” I wrack my brain. “I don’t know if I’ve even told Xander…”

Ben’s brows catapult. “Really? It’s been your biggest goal since the start of semester.”

“I don’t advertise my goals on loudspeaker. You know…in case I don’t achieve them. And that reminds me, is Charlie showing up?”

His hand drops off my back to skate through his hair, smoothing down the wavy strands.

“No. I lied and told Guy Abernathy that I could get Charlie to come. It sealed the deal for your invite. But I’m going to make an excuse for Charlie, don’t worry about it.

It won’t look poorly on you.” His eyes flit down the hall.

He touches my shoulder. “I’m going to go find Xander and clear things up. You…mingle.”

“Mingle,” I say into a nod. “Right.” I do need to pull my weight here. Ben can only do so much, and I need to remember this is an interview masquerading as a Halloween party.

He peels away from my side to venture down the hall, and I meander through the different rooms—a den with a roaring fireplace, a two-story library, an art room filled with pottery wheels and easels, a study room with four giant whiteboards—trying to find one of the eleven members.

Hopefully not all of them are clustered around Easton and Xander.

Slipping into the kitchen, I encounter a small group huddled around a plate of cookies, which I am immediately told are marijuana cookies. The two Honors House members are baked when they greet me.

Elijah and Kiki seem open to chatting with me, and I do my best for what feels like twenty minutes.

They were both valedictorians at their private schools.

Kiki is an aerospace engineering major and has been dreaming of working for NASA since she was five.

Elijah has his sights on a doctorate degree in theoretical physics.

It’s in his genes, he tells me. His grandfather was nominated for a Nobel Prize in physics for discovering the surface plasmon.

I feel underequipped here. I’ve never talked about myself like they’re talking about themselves.

So easily listing off their accolades and goals as if they’re chatting about their favorite books.

And I won’t lie—they sound pretentious as hell.

Boastful. Maybe even vain, but it’s not rubbing me the wrong way.

A fine line exists between confidence and arrogance. I wish I just didn’t give a fuck about accidentally overinflating myself. They clearly don’t.

Not caring what other people think is a mightier drug than the pot cookies. I’d love to be high on it.

“You’re a sophomore and you’re only eighteen. How did that happen?” Elijah turns the conversation on me. The spotlight both welcome and unwelcome at the same time. This is good, just don’t scowl .

I work my face into what I hope is a gentle smile. “I turned nineteen a couple weeks ago, actually.”

“Happy belated birthday.” Kiki raises a cookie in cheers with a stunningly beautiful smile. She’s Black and has dark brown skin, entrancing hazel eyes, plus the height of a supermodel.

“Thanks.” I take a larger breath and try to maintain eye contact. Neck aches. “I skipped the fifth grade.”