My blush intensifies, and I lick my lower lip, eyes sliding to one side because it’s just a bit too hard to look at him right now.
“I kissed you,” I add lamely, and he chuckles, tightening his grip on my waist.
“If you consider that a real kiss, Chuck Carson, then there’s a thing or two I could teach you.” Tobias reaches out and puts a single finger under my chin, lifting my face up to look at him. He barely uses any pressure at all; if I wanted to, I could’ve resisted. “Would you like a little tutorial?”
Since I’m finding it suddenly impossible to talk, I nod instead and Tobias grins.
“Alright, Secret Girl, let’s see what you can do.” He moves one hand to the back of my head, cupping it gently as he drops his lips to mine, searing me with heat. I make a small sound without even meaning to, this urgent, desperate sort of whimper that encourages Tobias to pull me closer. His tongue traces the edge of my lower lip before sliding up against mine. I find myself melting into him, even as I’m doing my best to resist.
Getting involved with one twin means getting involved with both, doesn’t it? They said something about sharing, but … I’m not near as experienced as they are. I’m not sure if I’m ready for all of this intensity and passion.
And yet I can’t stop kissing Tobias.
No, he tastes too good, feels too good, and there are fireworks going off behind my eyelids.
Kissing Cody was never like this.
When I push harder into him, Tobias laughs and pulls away, flashing me a cocksure smile that does all sorts of strange things to my panties. Namely, it melts them.
“Nah, I don’t think so, Chuck. This was just the tutorial. You’re not ready for the full course just yet.”
I pick up a handful of dry leaves and toss them at him, sending them fluttering through the air like brown snowflakes.
“You’re a serious toilet-paper-wad, you know that?”
He throws his head back and laughs at me, like that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard in his life.
“Ow, burn, Chuck, burn.” Tobias winks at me and then gestures with his chin toward the door. “Let’s blow this joint before the murderer shows up, okay? I can’t die until I’ve beaten Micah’s ass during drag racing. Fucker always wins.”
“Against you?!” I ask as I follow him out into the cooling evening air. “And you let me race him anyway?” Tobias just laughs and keeps walking as I jog to keep up with those long legs of his. Somewhere just off the path, one of those stupid owls hoots.
And somewhere out there … there’s the mystery of Jenica’s death, just waiting to be solved.
On Thursday, Church sends out a group text cancelling the Culinary Club meeting. I'm surprised to find that I'm actually a little disappointed. For a while, I try to entertain myself in my room, but I just feel cooped-up and anxious after everything the twins told me.
Fuck. This secret at Adamson Academy is likely to get me killed.
“I give up,” I murmur, texting Dad to make sure he's home. If he is, I'm going to go up there and tell him about the notes, and the shadowy figure on Halloween night. Even if he locks me in the house for the rest of my high school career, fine. It's better than ending up hanging from a noose in the forest.
But of course Dad texts me that he's at a meeting, so I head downstairs and follow a group of boys back to the main building. That way, I'm not alone on the paths, but I have a clear, safe shot to the kitchen. I have a key, so even though the door is locked, and the cover pulled down on the window, I let myself in.
I don't expect to see Ranger Woodruff wearing a pink and white checkered apron with lace and frills … and nothing else. Like, I walk into the room, and I see his perfect ass right there in plain view.
He spins around with a spatula in hand, his sapphire eyes widening in shock.
“Get the fuck out of here!” he roars, but the door is already swinging shut behind me. My back presses against it, and I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the squeal of laughter that wants to come out. “I swear to god, Chuck Carson, if you don't turn and leave this room—”
But it's already occurred to me that I might have a way to end my bullying once and for all. Well, at least from Ranger anyway. Church and Spencer are entirely different stories. And the twins … I'm not really sure what to think about the twins.
“Why are you naked?” I choke out, whipping my phone from my pocket and using burst shot to take about a million pictures all at once. Ranger drops his spatula and comes at me. He's so fast that I can barely turn around before he's grabbing me around the waist and hauling me back. “It's already uploading to the cloud!” I shout as he tries to grab my phone. “It's too late. You can't take those pictures away from me unless you sign into my account.”
“You'll sign into the account for me and take care of it,” he snarls, his body pressed awfully close against mine. “Or I'll shove your fucking head down the clogged toilet in the bathroom down the hall, and see how long you can choke on shit before you give in.”
I slam my foot down on Ranger's instep, and he snarls in pain. His grip, however, doesn't lessen. Not at all. In fact, all that move does is make him squeeze me harder.
He leans forward, and a necklace falls over his shoulder, swinging in front of me enticingly. It's a silver key with one end in the shape of a heart. I reach up and snatch it, breaking the chain and then tossing it as hard as I can toward the wall above the sink. It bounces off and pings right down the drain.
“Fucking hell!” Ranger snaps, releasing me and letting me fall to my knees on the floor. He rushes over and sticks his hand down the drain, cursing, and then kicking the door panel with his big, black combat boot. “If I lose this necklace, Chuck, so help me, I'll wring your goddamn neck.”
He drops to his knees and opens the cabinet, unscrewing the P-trap and flooding the floor with a bunch of water. The key drops out, too, and Ranger picks it up, clutching it against his chest with a sigh.
From where I'm kneeling, I can see his ass and … other things. You know, like his balls. They're just sort of hanging there. My cheeks flush, and I look away, using the wall to get to my feet.
“I'm not going to do anything with the pictures,” I tell him, feeling my heart thunder as he stands up and throws the darkest fucking glare over his shoulder. My mind strays to our baking session, to the way his strong arms slid around my waist and held me while we mixed the ingredients. “If you stop bullying me and treating me like crap, that is. It's all I want.”
Ranger stands up and fixes the key back around his neck, moving over to check whatever's baking in the oven. He slips on a mitt and pulls it out with a curse, setting the cake pan on the counter.
“You've totally fucked-up my German chocolate, Carson.” He lifts his eyes up to mine, but I'm too focused on the Jenica tattoo across his chest. “Eyes up here, asshole. I know you're bi, but even if I were a flaming rainbow unicorn, I wouldn't date your ass. You're a pathetic, sulking loser.”
“And you're a bully!” I retort, moving across the kitchen and slamming my palms on the countertop. I reach one finger up and push my glasses up my nose. “Why are you so obsessed with baking anyway?”
Ranger just glares back at me, but he doesn't bother to answer.
“You know my mother’s family owns Host Hollow Cupcakes, right?” he asks, and my jaw drops. Host Hollow isn't just a cupcake brand, it's an entire snack food conglomerate worth over one point five billion dollars. “Baking is in my blood. My grandparents started this company in 1960.” He turns the cake pan over and slams it on the counter. The slightly burnt pastry tumbles out. There's something about Ranger's answer though that doesn't seem right, like he's hiding something. I don't press; I have other questions I want answered.
Besides … when I think about him at age eight, finding out his older sister was found hanging from a tree … all I feel is sorry for him.
“Please tell me why you're baking naked in a frilly apron?” I ask, and Ranger purses his li
ps. He glances away from me with a scowl on his face, and then turns, flashing that perfect, muscular ass of his.
He shoves open one of the windows, perches that pretty butt on the windowsill and pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the black backpack that's lying on the floor near his feet. He lights up and smokes out the window as I move over to stand beside him.
“Get the hell out of here, Carson, before I decide to kick your ass.” He points at me with the lit cigarette, blue eyes dark with anger and frustration. “And if you show those pictures to anyone, not only will it not stop me from picking on you: I'll destroy you. In fact,” Ranger stands up, towering over me and smelling like leather and sugar, “I'll make sure your dad loses his job, and the two of you are shipped back to the West Coast.”
“If it's worth it to you for the entire school to see you … like this.” I gesture at his naked body, and Ranger grabs my hand, squeezing hard. Heat flares through me, and I make a little gasping sound that has him raising his brows in surprise.
He's gonna figure it out, I warn myself as I slide my hand from his. Ranger lets me go, but that menacing expression on his face stays.
“So help me God, Carson.” He shoves his hair from his forehead and points to the door. “Get the fuck out of here, and keep your damn mouth shut.”
“Why are you baking naked?” I repeat, and he just looks me dead in the face, not at all ashamed about it.
“Because I like to cook naked. So what? It's my business, not yours.”
“How hygienic is that though? I mean, some people might think it's kind of gross.”
“I'm only cooking for myself, and I clean the kitchen after. Get over yourself, Carson.” Ranger moves back to the counter and scrapes what's left of his cake into the trash.
“Why the apron then?” I ask, and I swear he grows spines from his back and his eyes glitter with rage as he turns to glare over his shoulder. He looks like a dragon about to tear the head off an unsuspecting peasant.
“Do you always ask so many personal questions that are none of your damn business? Get out of here, and go to hell.”
“And why always the pretty, frilly aprons?” I push, knowing there's not a lot he can do to me when he's naked. All I have to do is slip out the door and run for it; he won't chase me. I mean, at least I don't think he would … He's such a salty bastard though, I wouldn't put it past him entirely.
Ranger slams the mixing bowl in the sink and turns to glare at me, chest heaving with frustration.
“They were my grandmother's,” he grinds out, and I raise my eyebrows.
“You cook naked in your grandmother's aprons? Do you know how weird that sounds?”
“GET OUT!” he roars, and I scramble toward the door, pulling it partially open as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down.
“Hey, um,” I start, feeling my heart flutter strangely in my chest as I meet his blue eyes. “I'm just teasing. I think it's cool you have your grandma's aprons, and … you know, cooking naked is quirky. Just … don't leave any pubes in the sink.” Ranger picks up a set of metal measuring cups and throws them at me.
I manage to make it out of the room just in time to avoid being pegged with them.
“You're just now telling me about this?” Dad says, looking between the two notes before he lifts his blue gaze up to my face. He's clearly furious; his hands are white-knuckled on the paper.
“The first time, I …” Thought I was going back to California to stay. Didn't think it was important, okay? “Thought it was a joke. But—”
“This is ridiculous,” Dad murmurs, sighing and turning to drop the notes on the counter. “You're moving back in here. I don't know why I ever let you move back to the dorms.”
“I don't want to live here!” I snap, and there's this unspoken with you that I think we both hear. I'm panting now, and Dad's just staring at me like he doesn't know who I am anymore. Things have been rough between us since Mom went away. I mean, I love the guy and all, but sometimes he just pisses me off. Pretty sure the feeling's mutual. “I want to stay in the dorms.”
“First, you come up with this story about a man with a knife, and now these.” Dad points to the notes. “Either you're telling the truth in which case, I'm not putting my only daughter in danger. Or else you're lying because you think I'll send you back to your aunt—which is not happening, by the way.”
“The last place in the world I want to be is California,” I snap, curling up the edge of my lip in disgust. “And I'm not lying. I almost didn't tell you about what was going because I didn't want to get bullied into living here with you. I'm seventeen; I need my own space.”
“We need to have an assembly,” Dad mumbles, more to himself than to me. He's barely looking at me anymore, switching into teacher mode. He's been like that my whole life, a teacher, an administrator, a counselor for troubled kids. Sometimes I just wish he'd be my father for all of two seconds. “We'll announce the girls' program, and—”
“No!” I snap, and Dad pauses, turning to look at me like I've lost my mind. And now I remember why I didn't want to tell my own dad about a guy with a freaking knife. Because of this BS. “This is my choice to make. I'm not going to be your guinea pig, so you can look good to all the rich assholes on the school board.”
“This is for your own safety, Charlotte. If we let the student body know you're here, then—”
“No.” I'm staring him dead in the face, my glasses slipping down my nose, my curly hair flopping into my eyes. “I'm not going to open myself up to scrutiny like that. You're a guy, you don't understand. Being the only girl in an entire academy full of teenage dudes is not something I'm interested in. Besides, you're full of shit.” Dad's bushy brows go up, and his face starts to turn that funny purple-red color. “You told me you had no idea there was ever another female student here. But Jenica Woodruff did let the school board use her for their experiment, and look what happened: she ended up hanging from a noose in the woods.”
“Where did you get that information from?” Dad bites out, but I'm not backing down. If I can stand up to Ranger Woodruff in his pink and white apron, I sure as hell can face up to Archie. “That's confidential, and it's been sealed by the courts.”
“Well, I know all about it. I know Jenica didn’t commit suicide, that she was murdered—”
“That's nonsense,” Dad snaps, but I'm not done yet.
“And I know that she lived in the girls’ dorm, that she moved in just two days before—”
“I've had enough,” Archie says, picking up his phone. “I'm calling Nathan, and you're being escorted back to the dormitory. If that's where you want to stay, fine, but don't think I won't have eyes on you at all times.”
“You're seriously going to ignore everything I've just said?” I scoff with a shake of my head. “I'm not waiting around for Nathan. No way.”
“Don't you dare walk out that door, young lady!” Dad calls out, but it's too late. I'm already turning and running out the door and down the path. I pause to catch my breath at the first bend in the path, still in view of the house but not yet in the woods.
“You need an escort?” Spencer asks, sitting on the same bench that I found him on the day I left for California. He watches me impassively with turquoise eyes, but I nod. Pretty sure Spencer is just a pot dealing jerk. He sells drugs in the woods, sure, and he may or may not be a tad obsessed with his new gay crush on me, but I don't think he's the guy in the hoodie with the knife.
“Thanks.” He stands up, and we start down the hill toward the boys' dorm, past the main building. “You're not going to try to shove your tongue down my throat, huh?”
Spencer scoffs, and gets out a cigarette, acting like he's not at all concerned about getting caught. Maybe he isn't? He is the sergeant-at-arms for the illustrious Student Council. That, and I know for a fact his mom is on the school board. She's some super rich copyright lawyer in D.C. or something.
“You feel this attraction between us, don't lie.” He look
s down at me and wrinkles his nose. It turns that pretty, wolfish face of his into a caricature. Like, he literally looks horrified at the sight of me, standing there in a baggy uniform with huge glasses, no makeup, and floppy, tangled hair. Heh. He should see me all dolled-up. This bitch cleans up good. “For the life of me, I don't understand. You're the shortest, skinniest, most pathetic guy I've ever seen. At least that atrocious fake tan of yours is fading …” I gape at him and touch the sides of my face. I worked hard for that tan … “Your glasses, that hair … but really, worst of all is your attitude problem. You walk around like you think you're better than everyone else.”
My jaw drops open.
“In an academy of super rich assholes, I'm the problem?! I'm the one who walks around like I'm better than everyone else?!”
“Yeah, actually, you do.” Spencer and I pause outside the front door of the boys' dorm as he finishes his cigarette. His turquoise eyes are locked on me, and I feel like a butterfly, pinned in place and squirming. “You came into this school wanting to not fit in. That was your choice, man.”
“I …” I purse my lips shut and look away. He's a total ass-fuck, but he's maybe just a little bit right. He doesn't understand though, not really. I look up and meet his eyes, dark with confusion as he looks me over with a squinched face.
“I've never been attracted to anyone like you,” he repeats, shoving his silver hair off his forehead. “I'm usually into … well, girls.”
Laughter bubbles past my lips, but I don't know what else there is to say.
“I have to go,” I tell him, moving away and heading into the building.
Nathan, the security guard, is just now jogging down the path, but I'm up the stairs and locked in my room before he can even catch up.
On Friday, I have my tutoring session with Church, but he doesn't show up at the library, so I entertain myself by digging through the old yearbooks and trying to get a feel for the deep history at the academy. In one of them, I find some scribbled notes about secret tunnels beneath the school.
The Secret Girl Page 17