Huh.
Not sure if I believe the note or not. In any case, you couldn’t pay me to go looking for them. I hate closed, dark spaces.
I leave about thirty minutes later, Mr. Dave glaring daggers at me as I go. When I get back to the dormitory, I settle in my room with a book called Broken Wings, curled up in my bed until darkness takes over the sky outside my window.
I always try to time my showers around midnight, late enough that there's usually nobody in the bathroom, but early enough that I'm not a zombie in the morning.
This time, I take back all the extra soaps and shampoos I stole before. Sorta feel like an asshole now as I put them back on the shelves and sigh. I did take them to California with me, but Monica never gave me the chance to offer them up. My heart clenches painfully, and I sigh, putting my forehead against one of the shelves.
I miss my best friend more than I do my boyfriend. Is that messed up? No. No, that actually makes sense. Cody was just there, handsome, familiar, easy.
Pushing off the wall, I head into one of the personal stalls, changing out of my clothes and undoing my bindings, letting the white bandage curl on the floor by my feet.
The shower water is hot and feels so damn good, running over my skin and taking away my worries and fears along with it as it swirls down the drain. The marble bathroom is so lush and cozy, and without the laughter of boys in here, it feels private and comfortable.
I use my favorite shampoo, the lilac-rosemary one that I like so much, that I've also come to discover is Church’s scent of choice. It's not like there are a ton of options on the shelves as far as scent goes, but it's interesting that we've both settled on the same one.
As I turn off the shower, I hear a rattling sound, like someone's trying to get into my room. What the hell?
“This room's occupied!” I call out, wrapping a towel around myself and padding over to my phone. If I text my dad right now and tell him I'm nervous, he'll chain me to the bed in the guestroom. So while I'm not going to overreact, I'm prepared.
Whoever's on the other side of the door stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
But a moment later, the door comes flying open as Church kicks it in, his faux smile gone, his cruel, cold face locked on mine as he lifts up his phone toward me.
“I told you to leave the Jenica thing alone,” he says, stalking toward me as I back up into the shower area, my back to the white subway tiles, still warm from the water. “You'll wish you'd listened to me when every guy in the school has a picture of your micropenis.”
“Please, don't,” I whisper, pulling the towel tighter around myself. I'm so scared right now I'm fucking shaking. “You don't understand what you're doing.”
“My warnings are promises, dickface.” Church reaches out and snatches the towel, ripping it back with so much force that even though I try to hold onto it, it flies off, whipping between us and putting up a temporary shield.
As it flutters to the ground beside me, and Church's phone flash goes off, I see his amber eyes widen in shock.
There's this still, quiet moment between us, the only sound the drip-drip-drip of the shower head.
“What the … what …?” Church backpedals so hard and fast that he ends up tripping over my shower caddy, landing on his ass on the marble floor, eyes so wide they look liable to fall right out of his face. “You … you … you're …” He doesn't look like such a psychopath now, more like a confused teenage boy.
Slowly, I reach down and pick up my towel, my lips pursed tight, and I carefully curl it around my body while he sits on the ground and gapes at me.
“Please delete that photo,” I whisper, but my voice is hard and fierce.
He doesn't move though, just sits there and gapes at me while I lean down, take his phone from his hand, and delete the picture before I give it back. “Now get out.”
“You … you're ….”
The door opens and the twins rush in, breathing hard as they squeeze into the small room, looking between me and Church.
“Damn it, Church,” they say in unison as Tobias moves to grab my robe from the hook.
“You're such an idiot,” Micah tells him as Tobias offers up the robe, and I slip into it, belting it at the waist. “I told you: it's not Charlotte's fault. We told her about Jenica.”
“Charlotte …” Church whispers, reaching up to push some of his blond hair from his face. “Charlotte.”
“Yes, Charlotte,” I say, lifting my chin up in defiance. “Are you happy now? You were right: I do have a Micropenis. It's called a clitoris, and it has ten times as many nerve endings as your tiny dick. Now get out.”
The twins grab their president under the arms and drag him from the room, kicking the door closed behind them, so I can get dressed. Things are awkward enough, so I put my uniform on instead of my pajamas, before I come out and face off against the blond dickhead in front of the row of empty pedestal sinks.
“You're a girl,” Church says again, arms crossed over his chest. He squints at me. “How? Why? What are you even doing here?”
“If you didn't notice, dumbass, my dad's the headmaster,” I spit back at him. “And the school board wants a mixed population now. They wanted to use me as their experimental girl student, and I said no. Explanation enough for you? Try being a teenage chick in a school full of super rich jerks. How well do you think that'd go down?” I glance between the twins and their glittering green eyes before I look back at Church. “Especially with what happened to Jenica.”
Church frowns, and groans, putting his head in his hand, the elbow of one arm resting in the palm of the opposite hand.
“Jesus Christ. Who else knows?”
“Just us,” the twins say together, tucking opposite hands into their pockets, so that they're mirror images of each other. “Well, and whoever it is that's leaving her notes.”
“Notes?” Church asks, lifting his face up to look at me. He looks … disturbed. “What sort of notes?”
“Charlotte,” the twins drawl, holding out their hands toward me, and I sigh.
“I gave them to my dad. They were left on the community corkboard, addressed to Eve, from Adam. Someone else knows.” Church just stares at me and then swears under his breath.
“What else did they say?” he asks, and I guess we're not going to talk about the fact that he saw me naked. Good. Because I don't want to talk about it. Ever.
“Um, get out? We don't want you here? Basically …” I trail off and cross my arms over my chest. Church's eyes follow the movement, and I swear it feels like he's looking at the curve of my chest. I suddenly very much miss my bindings. “Probably the same guy who chased me with a knife.”
Church glances at Micah, and then Tobias. It's quite clear they're sharing some silent secrets here.
“We should get some private security detail up here,” he says, and my brows go up. Um, what? He wants to get private security detail … for me?
“Already tried,” the twins say together, and Tobias sighs.
“We asked our dad to send some, but the schoolboard denied our request. They think the whole thing was a prank and that fat old Nathan is good enough security. Besides, nobody but us believes Jenica was murdered.”
Church makes a scoffing sound and glances back at me.
“I'll talk to my parents, too,” he says, watching me carefully. “But Ranger learns nothing about this. Is that understood?”
“Aye, aye, Mr. President,” the twins say together, and then everyone turns to look back at me.
“What? I don't take orders from you,” I murmur, and Church sneers.
“For fuck's sake, Carson. You're as dumb a girl as you are a boy. Trust me when I say you don't want your secret to get out. There's old money here, and they won't like the idea of a woman in their boys' club.”
“No shit,” I murmur, stiffening up as he moves up to stand beside me, looking down from that cold, impassive face of his. “You don't think I'm dumb enough to spill my own secret? I don't
need you to order me to keep myself safe.”
Church reaches up and tries to touch the side of my face, but I slap his hand away.
“Just as feisty as ever,” he murmurs, shaking his head and glancing back toward the twins. “One of us should stay with her at all times.”
“I don't need you guys to follow me around,” I groan, but then again, I did just barely outrun a crazy person with a knife. “You've been keeping me on a tight enough leash at is, what with all your detentions and Culinary Club bullshit. Why don't you just dumb another jar of spiders on me?”
Church just looks at me from that impossibly handsome face of his and then shakes his head, putting two fingers up to his temple.
“I've got a headache. I need a cup of coffee.”
“You're a caffeine addict,” I murmur, but he just flips me off by curling one of his two fingers under. “Where are you going to get coffee at twelve thirty at night?”
Church glances up at me and smirks.
“Oh, I have my ways.”
We end up back at the Jaw Flapper which just happens to actually be open, taking a seat in the corner as a woman in a turquoise uniform with a white apron comes over to take our order.
“Church, you shouldn't be up so late,” she chastises, putting a mug of coffee in front of Church, and slapping a menu down in front of me. Nobody else gets one, so I'm guessing she knows the guys pretty well. “And who's the gorgeous girl with you?” She winks at me, and I gape. Before we left, I put my bindings back on. I'm wearing my uniform and glasses, too. “Can't fool me, honeydew,” she says, and I flush.
“She's our girlfriend, Charlotte,” the twins say, smirking as I kick them both under the table. The waitress nods, like she's not at all surprised they'd be dating the same girl, and then pats Church on the head.
Never thought I'd see someone like Church Montague, heir to one of the richest privately run corporations in the world, get their head patted, but it turns him human for just the briefest of moments, and I appreciate that.
“Well, I can't say that I like y'all running around this late at night, but if you're here, you might as well eat.” She grins and nods her chin at me, her dark curls frothing around her face. Her nametag says Merinda, which must mean she's the one the twins were telling me about. I only wish she truly owned this restaurant, and not the Montague family. “Nice to meet you, Charlotte. Holler when you're ready.”
“You guys come here a lot?” I ask, and Church shrugs.
“We have our Student Council meetings here every other Friday.” He lifts up his mug to sip the black liquid and groans like he's having an orgasm. The guy is seriously addicted. I see him carrying around thermoses of coffee, and bottles of iced mochas and whatnot, all the damn time.
I look down at the menu and decide that while I'm here, I might as well order scrambled eggs and cover them in ketchup. Last time I did that in the cafeteria at the academy, I got nasty looks from at least three different random guys. Too bad. I love it too much to stop.
“Why don't you want Ranger to know about me?” I ask, thinking of his naked ass in the kitchen. And what a fine, fine ass it is. Ugh. I need to stop daydreaming about certain dickish assholes like Spencer and Ranger. Just thinking about them finding out fills me with anxiety. I can't, exactly, pinpoint why just now, but it does.
“Because he'll lose his shit,” Micah smirks, leaning back in his seat as Tobias glances between the two us, forcing a tight smile.
“He gets … overprotective,” he explains, and I cock a brow.
“He hates me,” I say, and the twins exchange a cryptic look before turning a blank one on me. “What? Don't think I didn't see that look.” I point between the two of them as Church slides his amber eyes over to watch me, carefully sipping his drink in two long-fingered hands.
“Yeah, but if he finds out you're a girl, he'll just turn you into Jenica, and go all batshit. Trust us, we know.” Tobias sighs and taps at my menu. “Now pick out some food, so we can order.”
“I know what I want,” I declare, lifting my chin. “Scrambled eggs with ketchup”—all three boys cringe and groan, and Church even sloshes some of his precious coffee on the table—“plus an orange juice, and some French toast with hot sauce.”
“You're a strange individual, Charlotte Carson,” he murmurs, the slightest edge of a smile teasing his lips. He looks like a painting, this guy. “Merinda, we're ready to order,” he says, and he doesn't even raise his voice, but she hears him from all the way across the diner. That's how easily he captures attention.
It's a little … scary?
Merinda comes back over, and we put in our food order. My juice comes right away, with a reusable straw that I tuck between my lips and talk around.
“If you all believe Jenica was murdered,” I mumble, sucking down some sugary goodness, “then who do you think murdered her?”
The boys all exchange a look before glancing down at me.
“We have our theories,” Church says, watching me carefully, “but no real answers.” He sighs and sets his coffee down. “Just … don't trust anybody.”
“Not even you?” I ask, quirking a brow.
Slowly, so very slowly, Church turns to look at me, and all the emotion drains from his face, leaving him a beautiful but scary looking statue.
“Especially not me,” he says, and I shiver, turning back to my orange juice.
Not sure if that was … terrifying or sexy.
It should most definitely not have been both.
Something must be wrong with me.
More wrong than simply putting ketchup on my eggs.
Maybe not quite as wrong as unsolved murder …
The Culinary Club has volunteered—against my will—to cater the annual Valentine's Day party that's held at the nearby summer camp. The cluster of cabins sits dead center between our school and Everly All-Girls Academy, another upper crust school that's about a ten hour drive from Nutmeg in a town called Northpointe, Maine.
Layered cakes, cookies, cupcakes, carefully wrapped caramels, and truffles in fancy boxes litter the kitchen counters. I survey them as I reach up and brush my arm across my sweaty forehead, smearing flour everywhere. My glasses are already covered in it.
The last few weeks have been surprisingly quiet: no more notes, no more shadow figures, no more dudes with weapons chasing me through the darkness.
“This party sounds like hell,” I murmur, frosting the top of a vanilla-lavender cupcake with soft heather-purple icing that Ranger nearly killed me over. I put too many drops of his organic, all natural food coloring in it and turned it Teletubby purple. He looked like he was getting ready to wring my neck. A little extra white icing fixed it up nicely though.
“Hell to hang out with a bunch of hot girls in short skirts? You sure you're bi? Because that's a pretty gay thing to say.” Ranger pulls another tray of cupcakes from the oven as Ross gives him a dirty look. Usually he's simpering around the boys and worshipping at their feet. “What?” Ranger asks, giving him a look right back. “I didn't say it was bad, just that it was super gay. What red-blooded dude doesn't want to hang out with a bunch of sex hungry girls?”
“Sex hungry, please,” I scoff, getting this weird little knot in my belly that I can't explain. It tastes like jealousy. Which, apparently, tastes like currants and orange zest because that's what I'm getting on the back of my tongue. Maybe it was the cupcake I snuck in the corner though? “Like they're throwing themselves at you guys? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
“So many hookups happen at that party,” Spencer says, leaning against the wall with his shirt undone, tie loose and hanging. He's covered in chocolate, too, thumbprints showing exactly where he's reached down to unconsciously straighten his tie.
He moves over to the door, peers out, and then closes and locks it so he and Ranger can sneak cigarettes by the window.
“It's practically a bacchanalian affair,” Church says, sitting next to a row of perfect mocha-chocolate cupcak
es with chocolate covered coffee beans perched on the top. He's also sipping a white chocolate mocha that Ranger made him. “Bring extra condoms for your micropenis, Carson.”
“Do they even make them in extra-extra small?” the twins ask, exchanging a look and a snicker. I ignore them and use the little tweezer things that Ranger gave me to place a fondant and sparkle sugar flower on the top of my cupcake.
“Hilarious.” I roll my eyes as Ranger comes to stand beside me, the heat of his body jumping the space between us and making me feel nervous. I just put over a dozen little flowers on cupcakes with no issue, and now my hands are shaking. I end up breaking one of the petals.
“Good god, Carson,” Ranger snorts, moving up behind me and reaching around to guide my hand. He curls his fingers around my wrist, and a jolt of energy shoots through me. My lips part as he uses my fingers to take a tiny brush, dips it in clear icing, and makes a glue to repair the petal. “Helpless dickwad.”
He releases me, and I try not to breathe in his scent, that vanilla and leather smell that makes me want to shift around on my stool. My whole body feels hot when he gets in sniffing distance. Am I total weirdo? I am. Yep. Definitely a weirdo.
“I might not even go to the party,” I say, and all six guys in the room turn to look at me. Ross puts his hand on his hip and smirks.
“Trust me, girl,” he says, and I feel this small blip of shock before I remember he calls literally everyone girl, “there's plenty of gossip and fun there for even a unicorn like me to enjoy.”
“Unicorn?” I ask, and he smirks at me.
“Rare and beautiful little gay boy,” he says, giving a little shimmy that makes me laugh. Ugh. I don't want to laugh. I want to hate the little shit. He's been such a dick to me. Then again, it was all at the hands of his Student Council masters, so maybe I should forgive him?
“Ross just started an online relationship with some guy in California. He's on cloud nine, pooping rainbows and all that crap,” Spencer says, moving over to stand beside me. Ross gives him a look and a sigh.
“Don't try to be gay, Spencer, it doesn't suit you.”
The Secret Girl Page 18