The bar had closed an hour ago, but we were still riding that high as we stumbled back to the hotel. Victory over Blair's elite squad, first ranking in Obsidian, and a couple beers had me feeling pretty damn good. Jordan, on the other hand, had gone from celebratory to barely conscious in record time.
"I can't believe we won," Jordan slurred for about the fifteenth time, his arm slung around my shoulders as I half-carried him down the hallway. "We showed those rich assholes."
"Yeah, we did." I adjusted my grip on his waist. For a skinny guy, he felt heavy as hell right now. "Almost there, buddy."
He leaned his head against mine. "You know what's funny? I almost transferred out after the first week."
"For real?"
"Mmhmm. Thought I wasn't cut out for this shit. Lottery winners never make it, right? That's what everyone says."
I fumbled with the key card at our door, trying to swipe it while keeping Jordan upright. "Well, everyone's wrong. We just proved that."
