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Chapter Ten

Finding an excuse for why my face is cut and bruised isn't coming to my mind as easily as I had hoped.

A first aid kit I had found underneath the bed is a blessing. A smear of antiseptic cream and a plaster strapped over wound is all I can do. The bruises, which surround both my eyes, and part of my forehead, a dark mess of blue and purple, have no hope of being hidden. And at this point, no hope of being explained.

Naturally, at breakfast, it was Aiden who pointed it out.

"Someone is desperate to win this competition," he says, sliding into a seat next to me. I have no patience for Parker. He seems pretentious and almost everything he says can be seen right through. I don't think I'm the desperate one.

Sighing deeply, I place my toast back on the plate, reluctantly giving him my attention. "Aren't we all, Parker?"

"Nasty battle wound," he says, that grin manifested from constant compliments about his straight, white teeth. Reaching up with prying fingers, he gets so close, he almost
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