by Becca Steele
“I didn’t take the money, though!”
She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid that I don’t believe you. You’re a talented costume designer, with no prior instances of bad behaviour, and for that reason I’m giving you a chance. Hand over your key and return the missing money to my office, and we’ll say no more about it. You’ll no longer be trusted with a key, but you can continue with the drama club.”
“B-but this isn’t fair! I don’t have it!” Frustrated tears filled my eyes as I looked at her helplessly.
“Then you can leave. And don’t come back until the cash is returned. All four hundred and twenty pounds of it.”
“Please…”
“Miss Laurent. Don’t make this any worse for yourself.”
With a cry, I fled the office, running straight into Dylan, who was passing by with a pile of scripts in his hand. We tumbled to the floor, papers flying everywhere.
“I’m so sorry!” I cried, picking myself up and starting to gather up his papers.
He sat up, rubbing his stomach where I’d crashed into him. “I think you winded me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, my voice wobbly.
“It’s okay. Are you okay?” He looked at me with concern.
“Not really.”
After gathering up the rest of the scripts, he took my hand and tugged me to my feet, then released me. He patted my arm gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The story came pouring out. Poor Dylan—this was the second time he’d had to listen to me upset and ranting. When I’d finished, his expression had morphed from concern to shock and now outrage on my behalf.
“I can’t believe Mrs. Whittall would do something like that. You’re the nicest, most trustworthy student in the entire drama club. How could she even think for one second that you’d take the money?” He paced in front of me, deep in thought. “You don’t think it was Carter, do you?”
Yes. “I-I don’t know. But I’m not going to take it lying down. The photos were bad, but this? This is on another level.”
His brow furrowed. “What does he have against you?”
That, I had no answer for.
I managed to hold it together as I walked through the silent school building. Outside, though, standing with the sun warm on my face but ice around my heart, it hit me. A choked cry escaped my lungs as I tried to stop the tears from falling, but it was no use.
“Something happen, Laurent?” Carter was suddenly there in front of me, his football uniform covered in mud and a satisfied look on his face as he watched me falling apart in front of him.
A current of rage snapped through my veins, and just like that, I snapped.
“You did this!” I screamed and swung at him. My hand connected with his jaw, swinging his head around to the side.
His mouth dropped open, and he blinked, incredulity spreading across his face as he raised his hand to his face.
“What the actual fuck, Raine? Do you know how many people have dared to slap me without my permission?” His voice was steel.
I didn’t answer him, frozen in shock that I’d hit him.
“None. Zero.” He crowded me against the wall, trapping me in place with his huge body.
“You deserved it.” I was shaking with anger beneath him, welcoming the burn as it chased the sadness away. “You’ve taken away the one bright spot in my week, the only thing that meant something. Do you know how important drama club was to me?”
He ignored my words, his hand still rubbing across his jaw. “Don’t you dare raise your hand to me, again. I told you to watch your back, Raine.”
“Watch yours.” I glared at him through my tears, breathing heavily.
“What are you gonna do? You have no power in this school.” His mouth was so close to mine, his breath hot on my lips, and I jolted as I felt his hardness press against me.
With an effort, I managed to smother the spark of lust that shot through my body and focused on my task. “Really?” The familiar purr of an SUV sounded behind Carter, and it gave me a sudden burst of confidence. “We’ll see about that.”
Before Carter had a chance to react, I tore myself away, darting under his arm, and skipped down the steps towards Cassius.
Leaning against the door of his car, he watched me coming towards him with a huge grin on his face. “Babe!” he exclaimed, lifting me into his arms. “Arms around me,” he hissed in my ear, and I complied, laughing into his neck as he carried me around to the passenger side of the car. “You should see his face.”
He set me down, and I climbed into the SUV on shaking legs. “Bye, Carter,” he called out of the window as we drove away. I didn’t dare to look, instead staring straight ahead. The euphoria from managing to shock Carter faded as I filled Cassius in on everything that had happened.
“You think he’s behind the missing cash?”
I nodded. “I’m sure of it. He practically admitted as much. It would’ve been easy enough for him to get a key, too. He’s Carter Blackthorne—there’s nothing he can’t get when he puts his mind to it. Other than a decent grade in our English class, that is.”
“Fucker,” he muttered. “I’d bet anything that there’s something incriminating in his house. You need to get there and investigate.”
“How exactly am I going to do that?”
He glanced over at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Invite yourself over next time he has a party. Wait until he’s been drinking, then sneak up to his room and do a bit of sleuthing.”
“It sounds like you have personal experience with this,” I commented, and he laughed.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“I don’t know that I have it in me to invite myself to one of his parties,” I admitted. “What I might be able to do is invite myself over with my aunt, though. Sometime when he’s not there. Then maybe I could sneak away and see if I can find anything.” My brain whirled, thinking up plausible scenarios for inviting myself round his house.
We lapsed into silence as Cassius turned onto my road. Pulling to a stop outside my house, he turned off the engine. “Homework. Get to Carter’s house, get evidence, and keep getting under his skin. You got him to crack today. Don’t lose that momentum.” Turning to me, he eyed me critically. “Remember what I said about fighting fire with fire? From a purely objective point of view”—he winked at me—“you’ve got a banging body, but you’re hiding it away. Lena said you’ve got skills in costume design. Put them to good use.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself.”
His expression turned serious. “Listen. You’ve got to stop hiding away. You can’t go through life hiding in the shadows. Maybe it’s time to step into the light.”
I stared at him. “Has anyone ever told you how much you sound like Lena? That’s the exact same advice she gave me.”
“She learned from the best.” He shrugged, then grinned at me.
“If you say so.”
14
My head was a fucking mess. “Do you know anything about Cassius Drummond seeing a girl from our school?”
I felt Kian’s stare, but I kept my attention on the road.
“Cassius? Why are you interested? Wait, it’s not Ana, is it? Do you want to get back with her?”
“Fuck, no.”
“Good. That girl might be your type on paper, but she isn’t right for you.”
“Truth.” We’d never really had much in common, and we both knew it. Not that Anastasia had admitted that to herself. She still wanted me. Wanted the prestige of being my girlfriend. Too bad for her, I wasn’t interested in a trophy girlfriend.
Not anymore.
Kian was silent for a minute, scrolling through his phone, before he spoke again. “Nothing on his socials about anyone from school. You want me to check with Weston?” He named Cassius’ best mate, who had been our football team captain until he left to go to Alstone College.
“No. I was just curious because I saw him at our school ear
lier, picking up one of the girls.” I played it casual, gritting my teeth at the image that was burned into my mind. Raine, jumping into his arms, both of them looking way too fucking happy.
“Who?”
“Raine.”
“Who’s that? Wait—Raine Laurent? The girl you’re always talking about? What’s your obsession with her, mate?” His tone became sly.
“I’m not fucking obsessed.” My grip on the steering wheel tightened. “She’s my neighbour, and a fucking pain in the ass. That’s it. Just having a hard time believing she’d be hanging out with Cassius Drummond.”
“Hold up.” His thumb swiped over his phone. “No pics… Ah. She’s been tagged in a few.” He studied them closely. “Oh, yeah. I remember her now. She’s been hanging out with Lena Drummond lately. Can’t say I ever remember seeing her around school before that.”
Yeah, that’s because my little trickster liked to hide herself away.
“There’s your answer, then.” He tapped on his screen. “She’s Lena’s friend, so that’s how she knows Cassius. He was probably doing her a favour.”
A favour. It hit me then. She knew I wasn’t going to be giving her a ride home, so she must’ve arranged for him to pick her up. I still couldn’t believe she’d dared to slap me, but the outrage had faded as soon as I’d seen her go to Cassius, replaced by a feeling I definitely didn’t want to associate with her.
“She’s not his type,” Kian continued. His words conjured more images—Raine, wrecked after the orgasm I’d given her. Kissing me. Distracting me on the big wheel. If Cassius had seen her the way I had…if anyone else had seen her the way I had, they’d want her, too. It wasn’t such a stretch to imagine Cassius being interested, after all.
“Did you ever hook up with Halloween girl again?” Kian suddenly asked. When people had asked me about it after the picture of me holding her hand had been blasted on the gossip account, I’d brushed it off, telling everyone she was from out of town and she was a one-night hook-up. Everyone accepted my explanation—why wouldn’t they? I was surprised Kian had brought her up, though, since we’d both been chasing after her to begin with. At least he didn’t seem to be holding a grudge.
“No,” I said shortly and changed the subject. “You want to go to the bowl this week? I need to blow off some steam.”
“If you want.”
I glanced over at him, brows raised, before turning my gaze back to the road. “No need to sound so enthusiastic.” He was always down for a fight. Both of us had our moments when it all got too fucking much, and fighting was the best way to relieve the tension. Anyone could fight at the bowl—it was only for fun, and Kian fought there way more than I did. So to see him so unbothered about it all, yeah, that was really out of character. “Blowing off steam in other ways, are you?” Come to think of it, he’d been a lot more mellow this last week. He’d even patched things up with Preston, something I never thought would happen.
“Yeah.” He grinned.
“Who is she?”
He fell silent and eventually said, “I’m not ready to talk about it, yet.”
“Alright.” I wasn’t about to push him, not when I had things I wasn’t ready to talk about, either. Glancing over at him, I steered the conversation to safer topics. “Did Mack get back to you about the warehouse?”
“Yeah, I forgot to say. We can pick up the keys after school on the Friday and take them back on the Sunday.”
“I can’t fucking wait for this.” We shared a grin. “Party of the year, for sure. Everyone’s gonna want to be there.”
“Yep.” His tone was satisfied.
We pulled up outside the Cutler house, and after I’d parked on the overgrown driveway, I looked over at him. “I’ll wait here. See you in a few.”
“Fuck off. If I’m going in, you have to.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “She likes you better, anyway.”
“Only because I pretend to like her tea.”
“Whatever. You coming?”
With a groan, I got out of the car, sliding my keys into the pocket of my jeans, and we started up the path to the front door. A creaking gothic structure, all painted in black, it was exactly the house you’d imagine someone like Aunt Marie to live in. People said it was haunted, but I was more or less certain that the only things haunting it were the spiders living underneath the floorboards on the rickety wooden porch.
“Boys!” Aunt Marie was standing in the doorway. How did she always know we were coming? Looking at her now, dressed in some flowing black dress with her wild black curls around her face, it was easy to see why we’d thought she was a witch when we were kids. The reality was that she was an artist, a successful one at that, and her “fortune telling” was nothing more than being exceptionally good at reading people. She loved playing up the witch angle over Halloween, though, scaring the local kids.
We followed her into her cluttered kitchen and took a seat at the oak table. Kian smirked when I got stuck with the chair with the wobbly leg, and I glared at him.
Aunt Marie busied herself at the ancient stove, pouring water from the whistling kettle into the teapot, then carried it over to the table. “Tea?” Without waiting for a reply, she began setting out cups and saucers in front of us. I picked at the fleck of dried paint on the side of my cup before leaning back in my seat, careful not to put my weight on the wobbly chair leg.
Marie’s soft murmur filled the quiet kitchen as she lifted the lid from the pot, swirling the tea inside with a spoon. “One hides behind a mask. One has a secret. Beware the false one. You will lose your heart if you do not heed the warning signs.”
Kian and I exchanged glances. “Which one of us was that aimed at?” I asked, although I knew I wouldn’t get a reply. She never explained her riddles and I’d given up on trying to figure them out.
“Raine!”
The loud croak made both Kian and I jump. There was a flurry of wings, and Picasso landed on the table in front of me. He cocked his head, staring at me with one beady eye. “Raine!” He hopped closer. “Raine!”
I glared at the raven. I couldn’t fucking get away from Raine, even here.
“Picasso.” Aunt Marie snapped her fingers, and he hopped to her shoulder, like some giant black parrot.
“Is he implying it’s going to rain?” Kian glanced out of the window at the clear skies, and then eyed the bird distrustfully.
“I don’t think he was talking about the weather,” I muttered under my breath.
Aunt Marie ignored us both, deciding the tea was steeped enough, and began pouring it into our cups. I picked mine up, steeling myself against the bitter liquorice flavour.
Fuck. It was disgusting.
Kian didn’t even bother attempting to drink his, clicking his fingers at the raven. Picasso obediently flew down and buried his head in the cup. I rolled my eyes at Kian and tapped at my watch.
He nodded, flashing five fingers. “Where’s the table you want me to move?” he asked Aunt Marie, breaking the silence. She stood, and he followed her out of the kitchen, while I was left alone. Idly, I scrolled through my phone, attempting to ignore Picasso’s pointed looks. Somehow, I found myself scrolling through Raine’s social media. Kian was right—there were hardly any photos of her other than a few she’d been tagged in, where she wasn’t the main focus.
“Raine!”
“Shut up.”
Fucking raven.
15
The raven had been taunting me, but that was nothing compared to the effect of seeing Raine in person, in my house. She’d been avoiding me at school all week, so I hadn’t seen her. Not that I’d been looking…or checking her social media accounts.
Lies.
Coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes went straight to her. She stood in the foyer with her aunt and my dad, lashes sweeping down, her gaze focused on the floor rather than on me. The familiar burn of anger hit me as I saw her standing there, but it was almost smothered by the need pulsing through my veins. I took her
in. Her long, thick hair, hanging down her back instead of up in a ponytail, a black dress that clung to her curves, and down to those boots. The same boots she’d worn at Fright Night. How could I hate and want someone so much? Why the fuck couldn’t I want someone else? Anyone else. Someone my dad didn’t see as perfect, someone who hadn’t lied to me and pretended to be someone she wasn’t.
Eventually she raised her eyes to mine, and the hurt in them, directed straight at me, was clear. It was almost enough to make me feel bad for what I’d done. Almost.
My dad cleared his throat, giving me a pointed glance. Gritting my teeth, I straightened up, slipping on the same polite mask I used around Raine and her aunt, and pasted a smile on my face. So this was why he’d cornered me earlier and instructed me to dress smartly.
“Pam. Raine,” I greeted. “This is an unexpected surprise.” Unexpected and fucking unwanted.
Speaking over me as usual, my dad placed a hand on the small of Raine’s aunt’s back. “Pam, come on through. Delia’s just—” He was interrupted by the loud chime of the doorbell, and a smile spread across his face. A smile that filled me with apprehension.
I soon found out why. Our housekeeper, Joan, appeared with Sanjay Patel in tow. As in, Professor Patel, my English teacher.
“Carter.” He didn’t look all that pleased to see me. Unsurprising really, since we both knew that I was only in his class thanks to the pressure from my parents. Neither of us wanted me there.
“What’s going on?” I addressed my dad. He ignored my question, instead introducing Prof. Patel to Raine’s aunt and making a point of saying how Pam was single. Looking more closely at Raine’s aunt as she stood there giving Prof. Patel a coy smile, it suddenly dawned on me. This was a set-up. Glancing over at Raine, I saw she looked as uncomfortable as I was, wringing her hands and grimacing. Good.
“Carter. Sanjay mentioned that your essay is due next week. I don’t need to remind you how important it is that you keep your grades up.” I was aware of the deathly silence that suddenly filled the space. How fucking dare he call me out like that in front of everyone? But he wasn’t finished. “I’ve spoken to Pam, and we’ve agreed that Raine will study with you tonight. Maybe her good influence will have an effect.” He gave me a smile that was completely fake, his eyes daring me to disagree with him. “You may as well make a start now. You can study in your bedroom. The door is to be kept unlocked. Do I make myself clear?”