Page 24 of Dark Little Game

I got the tattoos to kick off this year. The first school year where I’d be out and proud with a real boyfriend, for thefirst time.

The wings symbolized freedom.

But now, so far, this school year seems to be cursed.

“The other new kid seems a little lost,” Weston says, nudging me to look to my side.

“He looks like a goddamned model, if you ask me,” Noah comments, his eyes scanning the guy’s body.

Over by the tall bookcases, a freshman recruit named Oliver is standing with a cup of water in his hand, looking very shy.

He’s dressed in a suit with a simple onyx black cape behind it, just like the rest of us, but his eyes glance around the room as he tries to give people halfhearted smiles, while everyone else has broken off into little groups to talk.

Oliver really does look like a model who just stepped off the beach and into our cutthroat college, especially with his sandy-colored hair and its natural sun-kissed highlights.

But his good looks don’t seem to translate into any social confidence.

I let out a sigh and toss back the rest of my champagne. “You guys are going to just stand here and feel sorry for the new guy? He’s one of our brothers, now.”

I walk over toward the bookcases and give Oliver a smile. At first he looks past me, like he doesn’t expect that I could possibly be approaching him. But finally his eyes widen, and he runs a hand through his hair as I nod at him.

“Hey, Oliver. Come help me and my buddies with a bet,” I tell him.

He joins me as I return to Noah and Weston.

“Welcome, Oliver,” Noah says. “Champagne?”

“Sure,” he says with a shy smile. “What’s the bet, by the way?”

“Last year, we kept a tally up on the main board in the entryway,” I explain. “Every time somebody came home inthe morning on a walk of shame, we added a tick to the board. Last year, Noah won.”

“Shut up,” Noah protests, but he’s grinning proudly a moment later.

“Some guys get around more than others,” I say. “Oliver, I want to know where you’re placing your bets this year. You’re new to Onyx, so going based on first impressions only, who do you think will have the most walks of shame this year?”

Oliver puffs out a laugh, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to assume anything?—”

“No, no, assume away,” Weston says. “That’s what this is for.”

Oliver’s eyes scan the room, and he shrugs a few seconds later. “I don’t know, I guess that guy Hunter?”

“Oh yeah? Any reason why?” Noah prods.

“He just seems like the kind of guy who probably gets a lot of action,” Oliver says. “Show me a girl whowouldn’tfuck a guy who looks like that.”

Noah breaks out into laughter, and Weston looks like he wants to puke.

“Show me anyone on Earth who wouldn’t fuckyou, Oliver,” Noah comments. “Do you actually do modeling, or do you just look like a walking Calvin Klein ad?”

I see a blush appear on each of Oliver’s cheeks, and he seems to struggle for words.

Noah and Weston start talking about their new best personal records for bench presses in the gym, but I’m still feeling like I need to reassure our youngest Onyx member.

“You ok?” I say in a low tone, leaning near Oliver’s ear.

“Good. Great, actually,” he tells me. “I’m just… not used to compliments.”

He pulls out his phone and holds it out for me to see. Heflips through a few photos of a gangly, acne-covered teen with a bowl cut for hair.