The auditorium is silent. You could hear a pin drop in the moments that follow. Then, there’s a commotion onstage as Landry pushes through the freshman class, exiting to the side of the stage.
I clench my fists together.
“What the hell?” I hiss at Brock, but he only turns amused eyes on me.
“Problem, C? Thought you didn’t like her?”
“Was this to get at me or her?” I ask.
Brock tilts his head to the side. “Her. But I want you to admit the truth.”
The auditorium erupts in chatter as everyone starts talking at once. Some of the faculty get up and attempt to shush the students, but the damage is done. There’s no salvaging this stupid orientation now.
“How did you even get that video?”
“I have a guy,” he says.
Bodhi’s head whips around. “Who?”
“Just a guy. He’s been helping me with … something.” He cuts his eyes my way for a second.
“Is that who you met with the other night?”
“Yes,” he says.
Before I can ask anything else, Principal Meriwether comes over the microphone, ending the meeting. Everyone files out but us three. We are locked in a heated staring contest, none of us wanting to give up first.
“Quit fuckin’ holding out on us. We are the kings. We live and die together,” I say.
“I’ll tell you everything when I can,” he says and then leans back, his fingers tapping against the armrest. “Right now, he’s checking into Landry.” He eyes the screen that’s being hoisted back into the ceiling. Looks like someone will probably get fired over this even though everyone knows who did it. “And Linda.”
“We know this.” Bodhi kicks his water bottle underneath the seat in front of us, and we listen to it roll, the plastic hitting chair legs.
“Yeah, well, there’s something fuckin’ going on, and I don’t like it. Linda has been intruding in our lives for over a year, and she only now brings her daughter to live with her? Something is going on; we just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Have you thought that maybe nothing is going on, and you’ve created all of this in your head?” I ask.
Brock stares me down. I hold my ground though. The worst thing to do in front of them is show weakness.
“We wouldn’t expect you to know anything about it,” he growls.
I raise one eyebrow. “Low blow, asshole.” I stand and shove my hands in my pockets. “What was it you said before? ‘Our castle doesn’t crumble over one fuckin’ girl’? Looks like it crumbles when you are a dickface liar who keeps secrets.” I hit his legs with mine as I exit the aisle.
I head toward the girls’ dorm as soon as I step outside the auditorium. I’m not sure that’s where she will be, but it’s the only place I know to look for her. Technically, boys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dorm, but it’s a rule often overlooked. Just like us.
I breeze through the front door, the girls inside shrinking back as they see my face. I turn toward the stairs and take them two at a time, remembering where her room is from our Friday night initiation. I don’t knock. I turn the knob, throwing the door open.
Two sets of eyes turn to me as I cross my arms, casually leaning against the doorway. I stare at her as she sits there, her long brown hair draped over one shoulder. She’s being comforted by Trixie, and I can’t help but wish I were the one doing the comforting. Whether she needs a hug or a good fuck, I’m down for either.
“Fuck you,” she spits as a shoe flies by my ear.
I smile. “Gladly.”
9
Landry
Gladly. The word echoes through my mind, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Gladly?” I screech.
I know how attractive I must look. My uniform is too small, my hair is out of order from running, and I probably have a whole lot of mascara running down my face from crying. I stand and stalk toward him, but Trixie grabs my wrist, halting me.
“Is this what you meant by their style is more subtle? Do you think that was subtle? They humiliated me in front of the whole student body.” My arms fly out, and I feel crazed. I want to punch Corbin in the face for even having the audacity to stand in my dorm room door.
Trixie grimaces and walks around me.
“I’ll give you a moment,” she says, stepping around Corbin, not even looking at him as she walks out of the room.
“What are you doing here?” I turn to Corbin, putting my hands on my hips.
God help me, but I can’t help but notice his biceps. His damn biceps as he slouches there with his arms crossed.
What is wrong with me?
I finally drag my gaze back to his eyes, and he smirks, stalking forward until he looms over me.
“Why did you do it?” I whisper.
He cocks his head to the side. “Do what?”
“Back there, in the auditorium.”
“I didn’t,” he says.
“Don’t lie to me.” I take a step back and sit down on my bed.
“I’m not,” he says simply, still perusing me in that relaxed manner of his that’s so infuriating.
I shiver under his gaze, and my body aches to feel his touch again, the traitorous wench. He bends over, tucking a stray hair of mine behind my ear, and I watch his eyes change. They go from seafoam green to emerald, dark and glittering. I would say it’s lust, but that can’t be right. Corbin isn’t lusting over me; he has the pick of any girl. He’s toying with me.
I turn my face away and close my eyes. I can’t allow him in. I can’t lower my defenses around him even if he shows me a softer side when the twins aren’t around.
I feel his finger hit my chin, turning my face back to his, and for a second, we are suspended in time. My breathing slows down, and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. He keeps pushing up on my chin until I stand, and he spins us toward the door, which Trixie closed.
He walks me backward until I hit the wall, his fingers cupping my chin, digging into my cheeks. My heartbeat is a cadence urging us on, a drumbeat. He inserts one finger into my mouth, pushing it back along my tongue until I gag. Fuck me, I love it. It’s dominating and worshipful, all at once, as I watch his eyes glitter.
My hands lift before I’m even thinking about it, skimming the sides of his abdomen, and I can feel the heat through his shirt, delicious and warm. I wrap my lips around his finger as he takes it out of my mouth, letting my tongue wet it as he pushes on my bottom lip, dragging it down before pulling away.
“Fuck,” he groans, pushing one hand through my hair, yanking the strands until they hurt, my head falling back.
He lowers his head, softly biting the point of my chin before reaching down and ripping the top of my shirt down. I arch my back into his hand as he slowly trails a finger over one nipple while raking his teeth down the side of my neck.
I can’t think. He’s consuming me from the outside in, and my brain is turning foggy as I try to remember what I was even talking about right before he touched me. His hand roughly palms my breast as a moment of clarity hits, and I throw my hands up, pushing against his chest until there’s a few inches of space between us. He immediately quits, and I hate it. I want his hands on me forever, making me feel like I’m drowning for the rest of my life. But I also want answers.