Page 53 of The Deceptions

“The mob?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“They all come from money,” he says, waving a hand at everyone in the room. “Except for the scholarship students.” He raises a sharp brow. “Normally, all the scholarship students are housed in the dorm we’re in. Just them. Poor things, having tolook out the window and see the dismal graveyard.” He rolls his eyes. “But since we’re all required to live on campus now, it’s gotten a little messed up. So, we get the lovely view, too.”

Half of me thinks I need to go through the information Jonathan left for me. This can’t be a coincidence that I’m here as things are getting fucky in Greenwood.

“So it’s a mix of scholarship students and regular students in our dorms now?” I ask as the RAs in front of the room clear their throats and begin speaking.

“Yup!”

“Good to know,” I mumble, trying not to draw attention to our informative conversation. “And your roommate? I didn't get a chance to say hello.” I need to find out as much information on everyone I’m going to be living with as I can. What’s the phrase? Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

Simon smirks. “I can teach you everything you need to know about this place, man. Including the people. That guy over there in the layered collared shirts?” Ah, yeah. I recognized him immediately from the brief glimpse I got of him when he left in a hurry.

Blond shaggy hair. Bright pink, purple, and green collared polo shirts. A heavenly tan anyone would be envious of and a smile to brighten the room.

“Yup. I see him,” I say, clearing my throat.

“That's Wade. He bunks with me. He's the Dean, Amber Whittmore's son.” He rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Snitch?” I surmise.

Simon side-eyes me. “Not from my experience. He’s a nice dude. The kind to give you the shirt off his back, but he stays to himself. Volunteers a lot on campus and with the puppies and kitties at the shelter. It’s nauseating.” He shrugs, returning his attention to the RAs at the front of the common room, standing tall in front of the crowd.

“So, you've been here all four years?” I ask.

“Yup!” Simon hums, swallowing the rest of his red punch. “All four years.”

“You like it here? It seems…” I shrug, trying to fish for answers.

He nods. “It's good enough. Not exactly where I wanted to go, but whatever. I had no choice. I'm just waiting for graduation. Then my dad expects me to report to the corporate world as his CEO-in-training.” He dramatically sighs. “So, I'm living it up this year until I have to become an adult.” He wrinkles his nose. “How about you? Transferring your senior year? Scandalous.”

I snort, clearing my throat. “I decided to move closer to my family. Plus, I got the scholarship. I couldn’t pass that up.” There. Short and sweet. If I leave it at that, he won’t pry.

Simon’s lips pop open like he wants to say something else, but the RA currently speaking at the front of the discussion clears their throat louder than before, gaining all of our attention. With a stern look, he looks around the room at the group of men and me.

“There are important rules to go over! If I could have everyone’s attention!” He shouts for good measure, his voice echoing through the room. “Some of you are familiar with what to expect, but we do have several transfers and people returning to dorm life. Rule number one: This is a male dormitory. Not Co-Ed. If you want to bring visitors of the female variety,” he chuckles when several men whoop in the crowd, including Simon.

“Don’t look so surprised, Oli,” he murmurs, bumping his shoulder into mine. “I love variety.”

“Wasn’t even questioning it. No judgment from me.”

Simon’s shoulders relax, and he nods at my approval. “You’re cool people then,” he mutters over the sound of the RA’s voice continuing to go over the rules.

“Your guests must sign themselves in and out and be out by 11 P.M.” He raises a brow, looking through the crowd. “11 P.M. also happens to be the new curfew put into effect by the school.” Several groans ring through the air. “I know, I know! But we can’t have you out on the streets after 11. You must be on campus. New security guards have been hired to enforce the rules. Not to mention the extra police presence. And the dorm curfew is 11. If you aren’t inside, you’re locked out!” The RA holds up his hands in surrender, not looking pleased to have to give out these rules. Let alone have to enforce them on his fellow classmates.

“Don’t worry,” Simon mumbles. “It won’t stop us. There are ways in and out of the building without getting detected. You’ll never be locked out.”

“Good to know. You’ll show me?” My heart rate kicks up at the prospect of being trapped in this building. What happens if I’m studying late? Or a party commences?

“Oh, a rebel. I like that. Of course. We’re besties now, right?” He wiggles his brows.

“Of course.”

“Quiet hour starts at nine. No loud music. Ya know what? Just respect each other, okay? We’re here to learn and shit. Just have a good year. If you need me for anything, here’s a flyer with my number on it. Also, there’s a dorm mixer next Friday evening where we can all get acquainted. You’re dismissed! Happy move-in day!” He sighs when everyone starts filing out, taking fliers, and heading back to their rooms.

And we do the same, following the flow of the crowd up the basement stairs.

“Ohhhh,” Simon sings, staring down at his phone. “Let’s cut out of the mixer next Friday and go straight to Fight Night.”