“At first, I think you're right,” he says, his English accent softening a bit at the edges. “You're bloody right. I didn't want to lose, not to the other boys, and not to the Infinity Club bastards. But … it's not like that anymore.” “Why not?” I'm studying him at the same time as he's studying me, drawing his fingers down the side of my face. “I've applied to Bornstead, you know. I'm as hopeless as the rest of those arseholes.”
