Micah frowns and turns away, licking his lower lip softly, like he's trying to regain some crucial part of himself he can't quite hold onto.
“I know. I'm … sorry.” Micah pauses and pushes his hair back, grabbing a bucket full of old washcloths from inside the closet and using it to prop open the back door again. “Just in case he comes back.”
Micah turns away and heads down the hall, leaving Tobias and me standing in the dark.
“He's not as hopeless as he pretends to be,” Tobias says, but I already know that.
“Are you guys going to mercilessly tease me for being a virgin?”
“Probably.”
“Jerk-off stain,” I grumble, and Tobias laughs. It's a reserved sort of sound, but I appreciate the effort.
“That's … a really good insult, actually,” he says as we head up the stairs. He takes me to the room he shares with his brother, and I find my palms suddenly sweaty as I step inside. It's the same set-up that I saw in Ranger's room: two beds, an electric fireplace, and dressers on the wall at the end of the short entry hall.
Micah is already curled up on his bed, so I take a seat on Tobias' and pretend not to be staring lasciviously as he pulls his soggy shirt over his head, revealing a long, lean body that's chiseled in all the right places. My mouth waters, and I curl my hands into my jacket to keep them steady.
His nipples are hard, probably from the cool rainwater and all that, but I can't help but focus on them and wonder what they'd feel like beneath my palms. Cody had the ugliest nipples, I swear to God, like they were long and bumpy and had weird curly black hairs growing out of them. Tobias' are … nice. Like, way nice.
“Are you ogling me?” Tobias asks, feigning shock as he puts his fingers to his smooth chest. “Avert ye eyes, you perv.”
“By checking him out, you're checking me out, too. We have the same DNA, you know. Same nipples—because clearly you like those—same feet, same hands … same cock.”
“Gee, thank you for supplying information I never asked for,” I grumble, stripping off my jacket and tossing it aside in a wet heap on the floor.
“Were you raised in a barn?” Tobias asks, picking it up and hanging it on a hook near the door. He turns the fireplace on and then, much to my chagrin, doesn't bother to ask me to turn away or close my eyes before he drops his wet sweats and underwear, flashing all sorts of stuff that I wasn't quite ready to see.
Tobias' dick is half-hard and on its way, erm, up.
“Oh my god, you teabagger, put it away!” I throw one of his pillows in that general direction, but keep my eyes focused on the dancing flames in the fireplace instead. I'm getting a mad sense of déjà vu here, thinking about Spencer and Ranger and that night in their dorm room.
That makes the mood pretty somber, pretty quick.
Tobias slips into some fresh sweatpants and sits down next to me, the mattress bowing under his weight. Tomorrow is Sunday, the last day before school starts up again. It feels like we're on a countdown, like if Spencer doesn't show up before then, then he's really gone. He's really dead.
“Do you guys have any video games in here?” I ask, feeling my eyes start to water again. Tobias puts his arm around my waist and pulls me into his lap, squeezing me close. The warmth of his bare chest seeps into me, driving away some of the cold. It's a different sort of cold though, like an icy fog that I know will come drifting back as soon as he lets me go. It's not the cold of a stormy night; it's the frosty feeling of an unbreakable melancholy.
“Do we have video games?” Tobias asks as Micah finally gives up on trying to be an aloof jerk and sits up, pulling his wireless earbuds out and dropping them into a case on his nightstand. He watches us with half-narrowed green eyes. “What do you take us for? Of course we do.”
“Let's play a racing game or something. I need a mindless distraction.” Micah climbs out of bed and gets something set up on the wall-mounted flat-screen on the wall above his dresser. Each boy has their own TV. How spoiled.
Tobias moves back to lean against the headboard, still holding me, while I play a versus match with his brother. After a few rounds, I realize there are tears on my face, but I pretend they're not there. Instead, I try to enjoy my time with the twins, brushing the wetness off my cheeks until I'm laughing and then yelling at Micah with game rage.
“You cheated on that last track!” I shout, tossing the controller his direction. He ducks, and smirks, letting it bounce harmlessly amongst his pillows.
“We always cheat,” the twins say in unison.
“You … toilet-paper-wad foreskin dildos,” I grumble, and they both howl with laughter.
That’s when the door flies open and smashes into the wall.
It’s dark out there and bright in here, making it hard to see who’s standing there.
The question is: is that the killer waiting there … or Spencer Hargrove come back from the dead?
The suspense is killing me, and my heart is racing so fast I feel dizzy; I can’t move. Please let it be Spencer, I think, putting every ounce of energy inside of me out into the universe. Unfortunately, that bitch never listens to me.
“Seriously, an unlocked door?” Ranger snarls as he storms in with Church behind him, both of them soaking wet and pissed-off. “Do you three have a death wish?”
There’s this rush of disappointment and sadness in me, but I push it aside. At least it’s not any of my attackers, right? But also … Spencer. Poor fucking Spencer.
“Ranger and I walked all the way over to the headmaster’s house, and even climbed the trellis, only to find that Charlotte was missing.” Church crosses his arms over his chest, his cool, businesslike gaze traveling from Micah to me, still sitting in Tobias’ lap. He blinks in rapid succession, a small blip of surprise on an otherwise stony face. Even though I know I have nothing to feel guilty about, I slide off Tobias’ lap anyway.
“You climbed my trellis?” I ask, momentarily pleased. I’ve never had a guy climb my trellis before, virgin jokes aside. “But wait, why were you guys at my house anyway?”
“To give you this,” Ranger says, moving into the room with Church on his heels. He passes over a box with a brand-new iPhone in it before turning that intimidating glare on the twins. “It’s a fucking phone, like the two of you have. Check your goddamn messages.”
“We …” Micah pauses, shoving the controller down to the end of the bed. “Yeah, we fucked up. Sorry.” He puts his face briefly in his hands, and I have to look away. Our little bubble of happiness has just been popped, and the agony on his face is almost too much for me to bear.
“You got me a phone?” I ask as Church sits down on the end of Micah’s bed, watching me carefully.
“We weren’t sure how long it’d be before the headmaster got you a new one.”
“As in, maybe he couldn’t afford it?” I say as I power the phone on. I’m not really that well-acquainted with my father's finances, but either way, I'm grateful. He spends an arm and a leg for Mom’s rehab, so who knows? Maybe the purse strings really are tight right now? “Thank you,” I add, before the Student Council boys can say anything else. I hold the phone against my chest for a moment, closing my eyes tight.
“Sorry we scared you,” Tobias says, and Church nods, like that's the end of the discussion. “We just … none of us could sleep.” He looks down at his comforter and picks at a loose thread as Ranger leans his shoulder against the wall, sighing heavily.
“Same. I'm so tired I feel like I could drop, but …” He trails off because there's no reason to put into words what we're feeling, this creeping dread that Monday will bring news and pain that we can never wash clean. “I was thinking of investigating both the attic and Mark's room, see if we can't find signs of that hole.”
“Also,” Church begins, closing his eyes briefly. “Someone broke all the bulbs in the hallway. It's dark as sin out there.” He opens them back up and stares at me. “They weren't like that when we left.”
“This is so fucking cr
eepy,” Micah growls, scrubbing at his face again. “Someone murdered … someone, and it's like we're the only people in the world that know or care.”
“Whoever is responsible for this mess clearly has an in with the police,” Church says, like he's been thinking on this for a while. “What bothers me is that the school board doesn't seem all that concerned either.”
“Which would mean what, exactly?” I ask, and the way Church looks at me gives me chills.
“That they're in on it, too.” He pauses and uncrosses his legs. “At least, some of them are.”
“Why would the school board want Charlotte and … whoever was hanging out there in the woods dead?” Ranger asks, like he, too, has been thinking on this for days. “It doesn't make any sense. Besides,” he gives me an apologetic look, like he's already sorry for what he's about to say, “if they wanted her dead, any one of them has enough money to, you know, hire the job out.”
“You mean, like, hire an assassin?” I choke, because really, is this reality we're living in? An assassin?! For me, Charlotte Farren Carson? What did I ever do to warrant being put on a hit list? “That's insane.”
“Insane, but true,” Church says, standing up and brushing his hands down the front of his blue and white striped pajamas, swiping away imaginary dust. “I'll speak to my mother about it.”
“Your mother …” Ranger starts and sighs. “Talking to your mother comes with serious consequences, Church. You know that.”
“I'm aware,” Church replies coolly, expression hardening as he looks over at Ranger. He rises to his feet then, and everyone else follows. That sort of charisma is scary as hell. And yet, I head into the hallway and up one flight of stairs with the rest of the guys, watching as the twins pull down the attic door and climb the steps.
“Be careful!” I call out, rising onto my tiptoes and biting my lip. I can barely handle what's happened thus far. Imagine if one of the twins disappeared into that creepy attic and never came out?
“Dude,” Tobias says, crouching down and looking at us through the door, his phone in his hand, flashlight on to illuminate the gloom. “Someone clearly patched this shit up.”
“What the actual fuck?” Ranger groans, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. He exchanges a look with Church, and their fearless leader nods. Without skipping a beat, Ranger heads back down the stairs and walks straight up to Mark Grandam's room, banging his fist on the door.
Surprisingly enough, it opens up and there he is, a sleepy, exhausted Mark Grandam aka Tampon Guy. He squints stupidly at us, one hand curled around the edge of his door, a scowl plastered on his almost-pretty face. Like, maybe he’d be hot if he didn’t have the personality of a cum stain.
“What do you want, Woodruff?” he snaps, and then Ranger's shoving the door in—hard. Hard enough that it slams into Mark and sends him stumbling back. “Get out of my room, you fucking psycho.”
The drama's too much for me to resist, so I clomp down the stairs with Church right behind me, Tobias and Micah trailing after him.
“Official Student Council business,” Church declares as the twins burst in and grab Mark by the arms, hauling him back and shoving him down on his bed. Church flicks the light on and surveys the situation with his arms crossed over his chest.
Mark's roommate, some unrecognizable meathead jock, groans and covers his head with his pillow, resigned to whatever's going to happen. At Adamson Academy, you do not fuck with the Student Council.
“What the hell is this?” Mark snarls as Ranger grabs the chair from Mark's roommate's desk and stands on it, pulling a pocketknife out of his pj pants to poke at the ceiling with. “And what is the little tampon-loving weasel doing in here? He's not part of the Student Council, not unless you fired that fag Ross.” Mark scowls at me, and I flip him off, pushing my glasses up my nose.
I'd almost forgotten I was supposed to be keeping my secret. Good thing I probably look a hot mess in the baggy Adamson hoodie I was hiding under my jacket, my sweatpants spattered with paint from that time I helped Aunt Elisa turn her living room purple. Pretty sure I'm believably a dude right now, an ugly dude maybe, but a dude.
“Call Ross a fag again, and I'll be forced to let the twins loose,” Church says, smiling this ruthless little smile that assures me he's not joking, not even a little bit. “Now shut your mouth and sit still. It'll be over before you know it.”
“This is such BS,” Mark grumbles, tearing his arms from the twins' grips and scowling. “When Eugene gets back from Cancun tomorrow, he's going to rip you a new one.”
My ears perk up, and I feel this awful icy chill wash through me.
“You've been in contact with Eugene?” I ask, feeling myself start to shake with a rush of adrenaline.
Mark just rolls his eyes at me, clearly not intending on answering my question. Micah grabs him by the shirt and jerks him forward, so that they're face to face.
“All it takes is a simple yes or no, asswad,” he barks, and I can see the muscles in his arms tensing. Micah McCarthy is not afraid to start a fight, especially not if he feels he’s somehow helping out a friend by doing it. These Student Council boys are more ruthless than I thought.
“Fuck, man, lay off. No, I haven't talked to Eugene. We're not girls. We don't need to gossip over text all day.” A sigh of relief escapes me, and I decide in the interest of just getting this over with that I won't mention his misogynistic little quip.
Mark shoves Micah back so hard that the asshole jock slams his head against the wall and lets out a string of colorful curses.
Church, meanwhile, just watches it all unfold from the wall near the door while Ranger pulls out his phone and snaps plenty of pictures.
“We're done here,” Church declares, and the twins move away from Mark. We exit the room in a group, and I cringe as the door slams shut so hard behind us that tiny bits of plaster flake from the ceiling in the hall. The very, very dark hall. The lights in the downstairs common room are on, but it's dark as pitch up here.
I glance back up, toward my room on the top floor, and I shiver.
I'm sort of glad I'm not up there all alone, even if living with Dad is a veritable form of hell. The only plus recently is that he hasn't been disconnecting the Wi-fi at night. I suppose that's a form of compassion, coming from him.
“There was an obvious seam there,” Ranger murmurs as he takes us back to his room. His and Spencer's. Well, technically, I guess it's Church's room, but …
As soon as we walk in and I see Spencer's bed, still unmade from the last day he was here, my eyes fill with tears. I find that I'm drawn to his charcoal gray sheets, and end up crawling under them as I listen to the boys talk.
The twins notice and exchange a look, pausing next to Church as Ranger sits down heavily on the edge of his bed.
“There was a hole there, and someone patched it up. Did a damn good job of it, too. It's nearly invisible.”
“So, whoever's after me is some sort of construction expert then?” I ask, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. There's a migraine coming on, I can feel it.
“Mark is guilty,” the twins say in unison, glancing at each other before turning back to the room. They point across at one another. “We can feel it.”
“Why do you say that?” Church asks smoothly, but less like he disagrees with them and more like he wants to hear their independent thoughts before making up his own mind.
“The hole went from the attic to his room. And then it was covered up so expertly. Why bother? Unless you wanted to remove the idea of any connection between you and the attacks.” Tobias shrugs his shoulders and Micah continues on for him.
“I guess one of the hoodie-wearing assholes could be Blaine”—I'm assuming Blaine is Mark's roomie until I hear otherwise—”but come on, Mark is a total twat-waffle, complete with butter-face and douche maple syrup.”
I raise my brows. Whoa. An insult that's Chuck-worthy in its insanity. I'll take it. Seems appropriate anyhow.
“If he i
s one of my attackers, then there are least two more,” I add, feeling exhaustion dig its nails into me and hold on for dear life. I want Spencer back. I want Culinary Club and cake baking and even … even the light bullying, I want it all back to the way it was. “Because I distinctly heard a masculine scream when I nailed the first guy with pepper spray, and a male grunt when I hit the second with the crowbar.” I look at the four faces staring back at me. “Back at Everly, one of my attackers was female.”
“Let's keep an eye on Mark,” Church says, face shutting down into this dark void. I would not want to be on his bad side. Hell, I was for a little while and it wasn't pretty. Even then, his wrath was only because of my attitude. Imagine if he thought I'd hurt or even killed his friend? I would not put it past this guy to stab someone. “And maybe he'll lead us to the other two.”
“Or to Spencer,” Ranger suggests, and the room falls silent. We're all missing him so hard in that moment. When I lift his sheets up and close my eyes, breathing in that signature hyssop and cedar scent, I know I'm not moving from this spot, not tonight.
“Can I sleep here?” I ask.
It doesn't even take Ranger a second to answer.
“Of course you can,” he whispers, and then I curl up and cry quietly as the light is shut off, the electric fireplace on, and the soft sound of the door closing punctuates the twins and Church leaving the room. “I’m going to take a few sleeping pills. You want any?” I shake my head; words are too hard right now.
Outside, the storm rages even harder.
I try my best not to think of it as an omen.
Doesn't work.
Despite my level of fatigue, it doesn't look like I'll be falling asleep for a long, long time. Instead, I'm left to lie there with the sound of the storm and the dark whisper of my thoughts for company.
Ranger falls asleep first, the soft sound of his breathing a comforting backdrop against the crackle from the fireplace and the pounding rain from outside the window.
The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy #2) Page 4