And that’s when it happened. I released my confusing knot of conflicting emotions for Sterling, let it float away into the evening sky as I walked away, across the quad to my dorm. After all, I had to thank him for opening my eyes, not just to boys and taking risks and making friends like Kendall. He made me realize how much Cole truly mattered to me. Now I’d be there when Cole needed me most, no matter what.
Reason 26:
He’s so bossy.
Even if he’s produced decent results this far,
it doesn’t mean he’s in charge of
Operation Save Cole.
Upon further reflection and after a decent night’s sleep, I managed to push Sterling Lane from my mind. The storm had passed. Even if they weren’t entirely gone, all thoughts of kissing him had been recategorized as memories. They were part of my past and had no place in my future. Still, I decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to avoid being alone with him—particularly after he slipped me a note in history ordering me to meet him in the basement of the library during lunch. I’d heard stories about what went on down there in the stacks that no one ever visited. He was insane if he thought he could trick me so easily.
Halfway through lunch, he dropped a massive dusty book next to my lunch tray. The impact tipped my water all over my tray and Sterling made no move to clean it up.
“Not accustomed to being stood up,” he said. He leaned in close, almost as close as he’d been the two times we’d kissed. “Then it hit me—you don’t trust yourself to be alone with me. Can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“I think you’ll find that’s no longer a problem,” I said, keeping my tone professional. Firm but friendly. “But thank you for being so understanding.”
He tipped his head to the side, eyeing me like I had a knife hidden behind my back. “Where are the quills?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I forced a smile. “Did you have something you needed to discuss?”
“Yes,” he said, the suspicion in his eyes so overblown we could have been starring in a vintage detective show. You could almost hear the dramatic musical montage as his eyes bored into mine, eyebrow arched theatrically. “Cole and I received official notification from the headmaster that the disciplinary committee is hearing our case tomorrow. Your father is driving up for the occasion, and I’m hoping thanks to his travel schedule my father is still in the dark. Can you meet me before dinner?”
I was glad I’d already eaten enough of my lunch to sustain me through the afternoon, because my appetite officially vanished. “What are we gonna do?”
“Have a little chat with Gil.”
“You can do that alone.”
“And just the other day you were chomping at the bit, refusing to take a backseat. This is for Cole, remember?”
“Well, I think you can tackle this part by yourself. Remember my little problem with inconvenient outbursts?”
“Of course, I’m happy to be your errand boy,” he said drily. “But it’ll cost you.”
“How much?”
“Another favor. And this time, no special parameters. Anything I want.”
“Nice try,” I snapped, “Mr. Manipulator. It hasn’t escaped my notice that this little rendezvous benefits you, too.”
His eyes lit up, like he’d just been reunited with a long-lost friend.
“Fine. You were right—I don’t want to be alone with you. Things keep happening.”
My favorite of his many smiles flashed across his face, straight white teeth and all. “Yes, they do. Things worth repeating.”
At that, my body went all wobbly. There was no way he missed the color rising in my cheeks.
“I know you’re the kind of girl who never backs down. So I know you won’t let whatever this is distract you from helping Cole. Six o’clock sharp. Parking lot.”
He started to rise, and as he did, he reached over and picked a carrot off my plate. It crunched between his shiny white incisors, and I wondered if he was doing that just to draw attention to his lips. Or maybe his jaw, which led me down to his neck and shoulders until I flushed at the memory of what they’d felt like under my fingertips. My hands tingled, an achingly perfect balance of revulsion and longing.
“It looks nice,” he said. “Mascara, new shirt.” He gestured vaguely in my direction.
“It’s not new.” I hated him for noticing, but flat-out despised myself for the satisfied warmth that flooded my chest when he did. “I just haven’t had occasion to wear it yet.”
“Flattered you want to catch my eye,” he said, winking. “It worked.”
I started to object, tell him it had nothing to do with him, but I bit back those words. Rule 12 had already skipped to my frontal lobe, reminding me we don’t lie. At least, not anymore. So I just got quiet and looked down at my plate, hoping he’d leave before I broke another one of the promises I’d made to myself that morning.
When I looked up, he was already halfway across the dining hall, headed straight for the lacrosse team’s table. He looked back just once and grinned when he saw I was watching.
That afternoon, I decided to finish making my physics flash cards underneath a tree near the parking lot. The repetitive nature of the task would help me mentally prepare for the upcoming encounter with Sterling Lane. There was nothing more relaxing than flash card creation. The steady movement of my pen against the index card reminded me of the happy days when my Rules prevailed, before Sterling Lane exposed me to the many holes in their armor.
Sterling arrived five minutes early. And he wasn’t alone—a group of sophomore girls was giggling along beside him, hanging on his every word while he blazed ahead, talking and pointing like a tour guide.
He came to a stop in front of me, and once again, I pretended I hadn’t noticed he was there, that my pile of index cards was completely engrossing.
He cleared his throat. I looked up, and our eyes locked. In the periphery, I could see the girls glancing back and forth between us, like they were watching a tennis match.
“Ladies,” he said. “This is where I leave you. Harper and I have plans.”
“What kind of plans?” one of the girls asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sterling dropped his voice to a salacious whisper. “But I’m afraid Harper wouldn’t want this sort of thing publicized.”
“Leave it to you to make it sound like we’re having a sordid affair,” I snapped. “Mind in the gutter.”
“And leave it you to jump in right after me. I’m sure everyone knows we’d never do anything like that, would we?” The sarcasm was impossible to miss. I hurled my pen at him, but he caught it easily and slid it into his front pocket. “And you’d better be careful—you’re skating dangerously close to violating Rules 12 and 16.”
Lying? Hardly. Our little romps were over. They ended last night when Parker flicked on the lights.
“You draw a very convenient distinction between omissions and lying,” I shot back.
“Of course. But I count on you to be the higher moral authority.”
I glared at him, just as an auburn-haired girl said, “What’s Rule 12? And 15?”
“Never do business with the big bad wolf,” I replied. “Now scurry along before he blows your house down.”
Auburn girl stared at me, aghast and more than a little puzzled, while her friends shifted nervously.
“She’s calling me the big bad wolf,” Sterling said, shooting me a conspiratorial look. “No insult to you was intended.”
In their eyes, he could do no wrong. Auburn girl shot him a wistful parting smile before wandering off with her friends. A slow simmer of jealousy burned in my gut, and that just made my frustration swell.
Instead of leaving, the girls loitered on the grass, close enough to spy on us. I swallowed hard, realizing how very little I wanted the whole school to find out about our outing. Sterling seemed determined to write it across the sky.
He pulled a vibrating cell phone out of his pocket. �
�Just in time.”
There was a taxi idling on the curb. I hadn’t even known Cedar Creek had a taxi company, but Sterling Lane was a master of the unexpected and improbable.
“Why do we need a cab?” I asked.
“Someone accused me of stealing, and even though I specifically asked him not to, Headmaster Lowell mentioned it to the admiral, who decided to wait a few weeks before shipping down my car. Make sure I wasn’t expelled before it got here.”
“You have an amazing knack for hurling my errors back at me when I least expect it.”
“I have an amazing knack for a great many things,” he said, paralyzing me with his smile. He reached up, skimming my chin with his thumb. Warmth flooded my face.
“On second thought, I’ll walk and meet you there,” I said quickly, backing away. The interior of the cab would be small and cozy. In those close confines, I could already imagine how his long limbs would accidentally brush mine. The way my body would likely betray me, trembling at the contact.
I didn’t think I could just sit there making small talk, but I also couldn’t endure to ride in a fully loaded silence.
“It’s ten miles, Harper,” Sterling said, using that condescending voice. “Get in. Hands to myself. Promise.” He made a ridiculous show of shoving his hands into his pockets. When he climbed in and noted the driver’s baseball cap, he launched into a protracted conversation about baseball. He tried to engage me in their little chat, but I vacillated between irritation that he wasn’t talking to me and anxiety about old patterns when he was.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to Gilbert’s address, and given the creepy farm road we rumbled down, I was glad Sterling had planned ahead for transportation. Finally, we came to a stop in front of a run-down apartment building next to a gas station. It was in the middle of nowhere. White paint flaked off the siding in shavings the size of notebook paper. A rusted-out gray sedan basked in the sun, one wheel-free axle resting on a cinder block. The car had been there long enough that weeds were poking through the rust holes on the door.
The building was two stories of doors that all opened to the outside, like a roadside motel, with a blue metal railing clinging to the upper level, promising to tumble to the ground at the slightest breeze.
Sterling handed the driver a stack of bills. “Wait here. We’ll be less than ten minutes.”
Once we stepped outside, out of earshot of the very curious cab driver, Sterling turned to me.
“This is where he lives?” I asked. Gil. The boy who was blackmailing my brother. I felt bad for all my hate-filled thoughts of him when I saw it. But then I remembered that Gil wasn’t his real name at all, just a moniker to hide whatever crimes he’d committed before dragging Cole down, too.
As if he could hear my thoughts, Sterling looked at me, squinting in the sun. “Before you feel bad for him, know that it’s only because he’s on the run. You can lease here without a background check. I don’t think Cole is the first one he’s swindled.”
Without even hesitating, he walked right up to unit number two and rapped loudly on the door.
There was a long pause before Gilbert cracked the door open, and when he finally did, water from his wet hair dripped onto his shoulders. We’d caught him in the middle of a shower and he’d crammed himself into a pair of khaki cotton shorts to answer the door. The top of his boxers peeked up above the belt line.
“What do you want?” Gilbert braced one arm across the doorway, like we’d barge right in with the SWAT team at our heels. My muscles tensed as I thought back to Victor. We could be walking into a seriously dangerous situation, but Sterling rocked back on his heels and smiled without a care in the world.
“Just some friendly conversation,” Sterling said. “And I think it would be best for everyone if we did it inside.” He pulled out his cell phone and tapped the screen. Gilbert’s voice drifted out of the speaker.
I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to give up a few points here and there. You’ll still win, just not by quite as much. It’s no big deal. Pretend you’re sick, not playing quite up to par. The team won’t know the difference.
Gilbert stepped away from the open door. It was the closest thing we’d get to an engraved invitation, so I walked inside, hoping against hope that there weren’t thugs loitering inside, waiting to break us in two.
The interior was every bit as grimy as the peeled-paint exterior—it was one room with a kitchenette in the corner. The floor was covered in stained gray carpet, all except for the glaringly new yellow linoleum underneath the kitchenette in the corner. The only decoration adorning the wall was a watermark the size of a Volkswagen.
“Waiting tables doesn’t pay as well as trust funds.” Gilbert glared at Sterling, who did a slow circuit around the room before coming to a stop.
“Little does,” Sterling replied. “I came to terms with my privilege years ago.”
“Came to terms with it?” I said. “We’d all love to hear how the spoiled rich boy has coped with his wealth.”
Sterling shot a pointed glance in my direction, as if asking whose side I was on.
“Excuse my word choice,” he said. “I recognize that I have more than most. And I’m truly sorry that circumstances have brought you to this point, Gil. But your choices have made things complicated for the two of us. And for Cole. You are going to create a video confession that we’ll distribute to the police, claiming responsibility for stealing the money from the coach’s office, and you’re going to disappear. You’re going to pay whatever remaining money is owed—I suspect Cole has already paid in full, factoring in the times you defrauded him. You’re going to leave and forget all about Cole.”
“Why should I?” Gilbert asked, his lips twisting into a surprisingly sinister smile.
“Yes, Sterling, why?” I added, annoyed at his bossiness and that what he was saying wasn’t all that different from my planned direction of attack.
Sterling reached over and gave my hand a bone-crushing squeeze.
“Patience,” Sterling murmured in my direction. “You recall Harper’s charming little story about the ants? Let’s just say this recording is all the attorney general would need to take action.”
Gilbert paled and took a step back. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“I imagine that’s true. Let me guess, some middling bookie sends you in to get kids like Cole into gambling debt, and you convince them to point-shave to pay their way back. And you turn a tidy little profit at their expense. The minute they go along with the plan, they’re ensnared, aren’t they? You can threaten to tell their team or the league unless they do whatever you ask. This is your chance to get ahead of the storm, Gilbert.”
“I’d stop and listen, Gilbert,” I said. Sterling squeezed my hand again, but I wasn’t about to let him take over this show so completely. “I did some research—this could put you behind bars for years, especially if they find out what you did in Arkansas.”
Gilbert’s skin went from pale to gray. Sterling shot me a sideways glance. I’d kept that little gem for myself, something I’d unearthed through obsessive cyberstalking once his prints led us to his real name. It seemed this was hardly Gilbert’s first time at the rodeo. There was no way I’d let Sterling steal all the glory.
We watched Gilbert pack, and when he was done, Sterling very politely invited him to share our taxi into town. Gilbert refused.
We rode back to school in silence, but for once it wasn’t loaded. We were companionably quiet, and I spent the time wallowing in relief that this ordeal with Cole was nearly over.
When the taxi deposited us back at school, I assumed we’d part ways until the disciplinary hearing. But Sterling stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and suddenly his hands were under my elbows, pulling me closer.
“Not in public,” I growled.
“I like the sound of that.”
“We haven’t gotten Cole off the hook yet,” I reminded him. “And no matter what, I’m not thanking you like that.”
/> “Like what?”
“I’m not fooling around with you out of some misguided sense of obligation—”
He interrupted, talking right over me. “So you’re doing it because you want to?”
My ears were hotter than the sun. “That’s not what I meant. I meant in the future.”
“Outstanding. You’ll be doing it because you want me against your better judgment—which, frankly, is pretty hot. The other night? Reset my standards.”
“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” I said.
“Could have fooled me,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “Even right now, when you’re pretending to push me away, you’ve got me in a vise grip.”
I looked down. Entirely of their own accord, my clenched fists were desperately clutching his shirt, knuckles pressing into the sculpted muscles hiding beneath.
“Enough,” I said, pushing him away for real this time. “This isn’t about us. There is no us. I even made a new Rule about it—no kissing you.”
He glowed like someone just handed him the sun. “A new Rule? About me?”
“I shouldn’t have told you that,” I said, backing away.
“No kissing? At least that leaves the door wide open.” He shot me a filthy little smile.
“I hate you.”
“I know. And doesn’t that make things much more fun?” He pushed up his sleeve, showing me his biceps. “How would five thirty-eight look tattooed right here?”
I wasn’t quick enough to dodge away. His hands found my waist and he spun me back until we were chest to chest.
“Stop it,” I hissed. I took a deep breath, struggling against the overwhelming urge to just melt right into him. It was so much easier than fighting both Sterling and my own base instincts. Once again, my rebellious little fingers made their way to his stomach, savoring the solid feel of him. I mentally ran through my list of all the things he’d done to infuriate me. That was what it took to find the strength to break out of his arms. “What is your problem, Sterling? I said not in public.”
Why I Loathe Sterling Lane Page 22