Between (Tory's School for the Troubled Book 1)

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Between (Tory's School for the Troubled Book 1) Page 2

by Katie May


  “This is the Registrar and Admissions office.” She pointed to an unassuming room with the front wall made entirely of glass. I could make out standard waiting room chairs positioned around the outer wall of the room and a desk. An auburn head was bent over a stack of paperwork. “You’ll get your dorm number and class schedule here. Everyone, stand in line!”

  I moved reluctantly to the back, already hating Maria. She was nice and all, but…

  But her damn, manicured hand was on Beau’s forearm a few spots ahead of me. She leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, and he chuckled, a low, delicious sound that sent heat pooling between my legs.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? This was Beau, for fuck’s sake. My best friend. Why did I feel so possessive, so jealous, so…aroused? And that was what his laugh did to me, that low, husky chuckle. It made me think dirty thoughts that best friends should most definitely not be thinking.

  I continued to watch Maria and Beau converse—well, Maria talked. Beau just nodded his head politely and smiled at the appropriate times. It would take more than a pretty face to get him to talk.

  As if he felt my eyes on him, Beau turned toward me. The smile that lit up his face was radiant. It was a smile designed specifically for me. My own lips curved upward, lost in the infectious pull of Beau’s happiness.

  He gestured for me to join him. Resisting the urge to smirk smugly at Maria—like a damn middle school girl holding hands for the first time with the popular boy—I took my spot next to Beau.

  “I was just telling Beau about some of the classes,” Maria gushed. She smiled at me briefly before her focus returned to him. My stomach tightened uncomfortably, and I shifted from foot to foot.

  “What’s your favorite?” I inquired politely. Honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted her to stop talking. She was nice and everything, but I had never been a people person. Only Beau had been able to break through my hard, apathetic exterior. He’d chipped away at my walls, one piece at a time.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I really like art class…but that could be just because of the view, you know what I’m saying?” She nudged my side conspiratorially, and I managed to awkwardly laugh. Beau snorted at my failed attempt at “peopleing,” but really, what did he expect from me?

  “Next!” an upbeat male voice called. Beau gently shoved my shoulders toward the desk. With a resigned sigh, I relented and moved toward the secretary.

  The man’s head was bent as I approached, rapidly typing on his computer. His head was bobbing side to side as he sang beneath his breath. I couldn’t recognize the song, but it was hauntingly beautiful.

  His head snapped up, and I was momentarily struck dumb.

  The man was gorgeous. Beautiful auburn hair with streaks of gold and dark red. Large hazel eyes framed by thick lashes. Full bottom lip and a small top one. What was going on here? Did this town just breed beautiful, sexy men? Or was it just the troubled guys? After all, this was a school for troubled teens.

  He smiled at me, flashing perfect white teeth, and extended a hand. I shook it, stunned by how warm he was. How strong his grip was. How my heart began to beat erratically against my rib cage.

  “The name’s Kace! And what’s your name, beautiful lady?” His fingers were rapidly tapping against his knees, and his body was bouncing like a fucking ball. The man had so much energy in him it was both adorable and nauseating.

  “Bianaca,” I answered.

  “Bianca?”

  “No, Be-ana-ca,” I stressed. His gorgeous, impish smile never left his face as he typed something into the computer. His fingers moved rapidly over the keys. I supposed he did need an outlet for all that pent up energy.

  Humming beneath his breath, he swiveled in his chair and rolled backward toward the printer. His long fingers gripped the corner of the newly printed paper before he rolled the chair back toward me.

  “Here you are, beautiful lady,” he said with a wink. The man was…extra. But I couldn’t help but smile in return. Damn. I was a sucker for the crazies.

  “Why thank you, handsome man,” I replied with a dramatic curtsy. He held the paper out for me to take, and I could’ve sworn his hand purposefully brushed against mine.

  “I hate to say next…” He glanced over my shoulder and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Especially since the guy behind you is not nearly as sexy as you. And he’s glaring at me. Like he wants to rip my head off.”

  I giggled, glancing over my shoulder at Beau. He was, in fact, glaring at us, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “He’s all show but no bite.” I lowered my voice even further. “Unless you ask him to.”

  “Is that something you like?” Kace’s smile was positively wicked. Sinful. “Biting?”

  “Is that something you like?” I parroted. Before Kace could reply, Beau stormed toward us.

  Kace directed his smile at Beau good-naturedly.

  “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to flirt with your girl.” Despite his words, he sounded the exact opposite of apologetic.

  My stomach fluttered, both at being Beau’s girl and the thought of Kace flirting with me.

  Down girl.

  Beau, ignoring him, grabbed a pamphlet from the counter and wrote down his name and information.

  “He doesn’t talk much,” Kace commented, typing Beau’s information into the computer.

  “You have no idea.”

  Beau pinched my arm, and I stuck out my tongue at him.

  “Only speaking the truth,” I jabbed.

  With a roll of his eyes, Beau grabbed the paper Kace held out to him and then reached with his free hand for me. He began to pull me toward Maria and the others.

  “Hope to see you around, pretty girl!” Kace called with a jubilant laugh. A tentative smile touched my lips.

  “I thought it was beautiful lady?” I teased. He laughed again.

  “Why can’t it be both?”

  Seeing Kace around? No, that would most definitely not be a bad thing.

  3

  Bianaca

  I glanced from my slip of paper to the golden 232 etched into the doorframe. My room was on the second floor, only a few feet away from the communal bathrooms. According to my sheet, this was one of the only single rooms.

  Lucky me.

  Fumbling with my suitcase, I used the key Maria gave me to open up my new room. My new home.

  Bright light blinded me from the opened windows.

  It was small, though that was to be expected in a dorm room, with a single bed pushed against the far wall, a dresser, and a desk. Textbooks already adorned the bookshelf directly above my desk, the titles ranging from mythological studies to trigonometry.

  With a heavy sigh, I tossed my suitcase onto my bed and surveyed the room with my hands on my hips. The room was…doable. It didn’t compare to my room back at home with its black and pink comforter and darkly painted walls. The cement blocks made it feel more like a prison than a room. The voice came from behind me, breaking through my reverie like the crack of a whip.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I spun, hands instinctively balling into fists.

  A young man stood in the entryway to my room, staring at me with such an intense loathing my hackles began to rise. Backing away from the figure, I defiantly lifted my chin.

  “This is my room.”

  He took a step closer, and my breath caught. His body was toned and muscular, and his dark hair was styled away from his forehead. His eyes were just as dark as the rest of him, twin obsidian stones fixated on me with an almost incandescent fury. His face was covered in piercings—a bulb in his eyebrow, two more in his lips, a few in his ears. Somehow, it promoted him from hot to downright sexy.

  “Your room?” the man’s gravelly voice demanded. He took another threatening step closer, and I automatically took a step back. My hair stood on end. Despite his otherworldly good looks, there was something dangerous in his eyes. A sort of haunted look that reminded me of a
cornered dog. He was a lion that wasn’t just out for the hunt, but for the kill.

  His fingers absently trailed over my desk as he continued to advance on me.

  “Did you hear about the girl who used to have this room?” he asked conversationally. Before I could respond, he continued, “Her name was Josie. And did you know that she disappeared a few months ago?” Again, he didn’t wait for me to reply. “This room has been empty all this time…until now.”

  He towered over me, his considerable bulk making me feel tiny and vulnerable. Still, I met his stare with glacial eyes. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.

  “And then you just arrive…steal her room. Steal her class schedule.” He grabbed a piece of my blond hair, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. His hot breath brushed across my face, eliciting delicate goosebumps. “And if I find out that you had something to do with her disappearance…I’m going to make you scream.”

  My breath was ragged. Damn. The kinky bitch in me actually enjoyed his threats.

  Refusing to cower, I took a step even closer to this stranger.

  “It takes a lot to make me scream. You sure you’re up for the challenge?” I breathed. I could’ve sworn that his breath caught and his heart rate increased.

  “So innocent…” His voice was a whisper. The aroma of leather and pine body wash assaulted my senses. It was a masculine scent, one I had the distinct feeling was uniquely his own.

  His previous words flitted to me, and I snorted. I was anything and everything but innocent.

  “I wonder how innocent you will look when I break you?” he mused, shifting even closer. “And I will break you. I will tear you apart until you are unrecognizable. Tears, cries, shouts…they’re all the same to me. By the time I’m done with you, I’m going to know exactly what makes you tick. What you like, dislike, despise. You see, little one, I have a motto.” He pressed his lips against my ear. “Guilty until proven innocent.”

  My heart skyrocketed. His touch sent licks of fire racing down my spine. It was as if his soul and body called to me, called to the twisted, demented bitch I knew myself to be, and demanded my compliance. I was drawn to his darkness like a moth diving into a flame. I was going to get burnt, but damn if it wasn’t beautiful. Like called to like, after all, and his darkness was a mirror image of my own.

  Coming to my senses, I shoved at his hard, muscular chest. He willingly allowed me to push him away, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

  “You don’t scare me,” I said, proud when my voice remained steady. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. He didn’t scare me. Not in the normal sense. Beau always used to tease me for my need to rescue and care for strays. This man may not have been a stray, but he was broken. And the idiot within me wanted to fix him.

  “No?” He raised an eyebrow, that sinfully delicious smile once again on his face. “I haven’t even begun yet, sweetheart. Trust me: you’ll know when I’m starting, and you’ll know when I’m done. Those lips…” His fingers brushed my parted lips, and ridiculously, my tongue wanted to sneak out and taste him.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  He was threatening me, teasing me, playing me like a damn mouse, and my ovaries wanted to jump him. I blamed it on my lack of sex. The sooner I rectified that situation, the less horny I would be.

  Logic.

  Reaching for his wrist, I removed his fingers from my tingling lips. His eyes flared with a sudden…heat? Anger? Desire? This man was a dangerous enigma. I needed to remember that. There was nothing more dangerous than an unpredictable person with a vengeance. A vengeance wrongly directed at me.

  “I hope you find…Josie,” I said, gauging his reaction when I said her name. His face remained stoic. “And is she your…girlfriend?”

  His lips curved up devilishly.

  “Is she?” he taunted. Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms under my chest. The movement pushed up my breasts, and I felt a moment of power when his eyes latched onto them. Once again, his eyes flashed with a voracious hunger, primal and carnal. His lashes fluttered. “And no, she’s not. She’s my sister. Was my sister.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, stunned by his break in character. For a brief moment, there was vulnerability in his steely gaze. Just as quickly, his expression shuttered off, concealing him once again.

  “I don’t need your fucking apologies,” he snapped. “What I need is for you to answer my questions.”

  “I don’t have the answers.” My voice was subdued, a contrast to his fierce one.

  “Then you better find them.” He took a step backward, toward the door, and a part of me instinctively mourned his absence. That part was a fucking idiot.

  “Or what?” I snapped.

  He flashed me another one of his grins. It was a grin that promised pain, promised death, promised pleasures that made my head spin.

  Without answering, he slipped out the door.

  I found Beau in his room, a few halls down.

  The room he was in was similar to mine—small desk, bed, and a large wardrobe. Unlike mine, there were two sets of everything.

  Beau’s side was still bare minus the few clothes he had begun to hang up and photographs taped to the wall. The other half of the room was covered in photographs and paintings. Some were of cars and landscape while others depicted women in scantily clad clothing. They were all gorgeous, obviously made by the hand of a real artist.

  Beau waved his hand in my face to capture my attention, and I reluctantly turned my attention away from an exquisite painting of what appeared to be a city. Chicago, perhaps. Or New York.

  “You ready for dinner?” I asked, plopping onto his bed. My eyes latched on a framed photograph sitting beside his bed. It was of us, taken only a few months ago. My arm was around him as I smiled up at the camera. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but instead at me. There was something in his gaze…

  Something I couldn’t pinpoint…

  I remembered when that was taken. We had just driven back from Beau’s football game. They had lost, but Beau had been in such a good mood. He had taken me to Freddy’s Diner for a midnight feast.

  My lips curved at the memory.

  His hand grabbed my arm, opening it up, and I watched his finger dance over my skin, writing words into the sensitive flesh.

  Do you remember when that was taken? he wrote. Goosebumps caused my skin to pebble. Everywhere he touched left a trail of tingles and heat in its wake. Addicting.

  “Of course,” I replied back, smiling. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Before everything went to hell. “Do you remember that double date we went on? With Dick and Mandy?”

  And yes, that was actually his name. Dick the dick. I had been dating him for two years when I convinced Beau to go on a date with Mandy Parkinson. She had been pining for him for years. We had decided to go sledding at the local park. Everything had been good until…well, until I discovered that Mandy and Dick were having an affair behind my back.

  Beau had quite literally beaten the shit out of Dick, and Mandy had gone home in tears. The two of us spent the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate, people watching, and cuddling in front of the fire.

  “That was one of the best days of my life,” I admitted, tentatively tracing my face in the photograph. “It showed me who I could trust…and it also taught me who I had in my corner. You’re my best friend, Beau.”

  I turned away, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. I tried to show him through that eloquent look how much he meant to me, how badly I needed him in my life. Somewhere along the way, my feelings for him had twisted, becoming something more than friendship.

  But I couldn’t tell him that. Not now. Not ever.

  His eyes warmed as he reached forward and cupped my cheek. Instinctively, I turned my head to kiss his palm. In his presence, there was no fear or worry. The mysterious professors, the asshole stranger, my stepfather, they all faded away. All that existed in our tiny world was him and me.

  Oh God, what
was I thinking? This is Beau.

  “We should go eat,” I stuttered, wrenching away from him. He made me feel too much, too quickly, too intensely. When I was with him, I forgot my name and all of the reasons why a relationship between the two of us wouldn’t work. He was the only guy capable of hurting me, breaking me.

  I had had boyfriends before—Dick was just one of them—and I had partaken in senseless hookups. I had never allowed anyone to get too close to me. There were walls around my heart, walls forged from trauma, walls made of impenetrable steel. Somehow, someway, Beau had chipped apart those walls, revealing the girl beneath. I refused to ruin our friendship, our connection, because of a senseless, unrequited crush. He may have been attracted to me, but he would never reciprocate my feelings.

  I wanted to be more than a quick fuck to him, and that was all Beau did. Alas, I had found myself in the dreaded friend zone. It sucked there, but at least we had cookies.

  “Your roommate is an amazing artist,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “He did draw these, correct? Who is he?”

  He stared at me quizzically, golden hair catching on the waning sunlight flickering through the opened blinds. His expression changed and tightened, confusion giving way to unreadability.

  In answer to my question, he shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “You don’t know?” I questioned, and he nodded an affirmative. “Well, I got a single room.”

  And it was apparently the room of a dead girl. Missing girl. Something girl.

  I conveniently left out the snippet of information. I wasn’t sure Beau would take kindly to the knowledge that someone had threatened me.

  My stomach growled, deafeningly loud. Beau’s lips twitched, and I glared at the offending body part.

  “Shut your mouth,” I mumbled to it, and Beau’s grin grew. He took my arm again and wrote onto my skin.

  Someone’s hungry.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Laugh it up, asshole. I wonder if you’ll still be laughing when I steal your dessert.”

 

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