Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
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Ten days later Jeremy was finally released from whatever obligations kept him away, and he showed up at the house with a suitcase of clothes and the sunniest smile he’d worn in weeks. Jean still had two empty drawers in his dresser and over half the closet to spare, so Jeremy moved in with easy efficiency while Jean kept watch. At last Jeremy tucked his empty suitcase into the back corner of the closet and turned a triumphant look on Jean.
“Thanks! I’ll try not to get underfoot too much.”
“You are my partner,” Jean reminded him. “You are supposed to be underfoot.”
Jeremy considered that for a moment. “Who was your partner on the Ravens?”
Jean slid his stare away and scowled a little when he spotted Barkbark. Jeremy had picked up the habit of moving the dog into his room on every visit, no matter that Jean always returned it to the living room. He crossed the room and flipped it around so its unblinking stare was pointed at the wall instead. Being annoyed at the nonsensical decoration was easy, and it made Jeremy’s question a little easier to answer by proxy.
“After Kevin left, I took his place at Riko’s side.”
A blessing and a curse: Riko was forced to moderate his violence when Jean’s weakened performance meant they were both punished, but he’d embraced the challenge of subtler cruelties. It was a talent once reserved for Kevin, who couldn’t be marked up when he always had cameras on him.
Jeremy nodded. “Keeping the perfect Court together, I assume. But there used to be only three of you—excluding that brief stunt with Neil that caused so much fuss around Christmas. Who came before Riko, or is that one harder to answer? You said Ravens got evaluated each semester, yeah?”
Jean turned to face him. “I only had one other.”
Not for lack of trying, of course. Despite the friction between him and the rest of the defense line, Jean was perfect Court, a 3 missing his 4. Even Jasmine had angled for a spot at his side, meaning to climb over him to win Riko’s approval. But of all the Ravens who tried, only two had any real chance of making it as Jean’s permanent partner in the long run, and Jean could only survive one of them.
Zane was supposed to be a temporary solution, except they both had too much to lose if they were reassigned. Zane wanted to be the best and play with the best, and he’d promised to stand between Jean and Grayson no matter what, so long as Jean helped him earn one of Riko’s coveted numbers. They’d devoted years to each other, fighting and arguing and pushing each other harder and faster, and Jean had honestly believed Riko would come around and mark Zane for Court before graduation.
He hadn’t counted on Riko finding Neil. Once Neil stole the number Zane believed was rightfully his there was no going back. Jean looked to the doorway, half-expecting to see Grayson lounging against the doorframe with that shit-eating grin on his face. The memory of Zane turning his back on them with an impatient, “At least keep it down. I’ve got to be on the court in two hours,” was still devastating enough to make him ill four months later.
“Jean?” Jeremy asked.
Jean realized he hadn’t answered the question. He swallowed hard against a roiling stomach and said, “Zane Reacher. Normally freshmen are assigned to fifth years first to help them acclimate to the Nest, but I was so young they feared I would drag them down. Zane was a junior then, so the gap was not quite as noticeable.”
“Reacher,” Jeremy said with pained recognition. “He’s very good. Very violent, too.”
“Raven,” Jean reminded him as he looked for a second bed. “It is what we were taught.”
“Unlearning that is going to be a headache, I imagine,” Jeremy said.
“If you would learn to play the sport as it was meant to be played,” Jean said, and let the rest of his admonishment hang unspoken. There was no point retreading this argument; Jeremy’s smile was wide and unrepentant. In the end it didn’t matter that they were fools. They were still the second-best team, on track to be first place this year, and for better or worse Jean had agreed to submit to their ridiculous limitations.
“Speaking of playing around,” Jeremy said, “shall we see what kind of trouble we can get into?”
It was too much to hope he meant Exy, especially when Jean was still mending, but Jean would have preferred something more interesting than the board game Jeremy settled on. Cat helped him set it up on the coffee table in the living room while Laila brought drinks for everyone from the kitchen. No matter how Jean looked at it, the game seemed pointless. There was nothing in it to work on reflexes or snap judgments; he didn’t even have to memorize rules when each player was given a reference card for their turns.