“Former?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely former. Hamilton and Heston were kind of the kings around here last year. Well… kings of the Devils. But then Hamilton fell for Gwendolyn, and my brother didn’t like her, so he stirred up a bunch of shit.” I shake my head at the memory of it all. “Anyway, when is this dinner?”
She chews on her lip. “Next week.” I’m not sure what she’s so nervous about, but it’s plain as day in her eyes that she is.
I hand the invitation back to her, boldly offering, “Do you want me to go with you?”
She stills, eyebrows rising. “What? You mean like… as my date?”
“I might not look like much, but I clean up well.” I spread my arms. “I’m absolutely escort material. Use me.”
“You’d do that?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t know…” She pushes off the car and paces anxiously. “You really want to go to a stuffy dinner with me and a group of people neither of us really know? Especially if there’s bad blood between their daughter’s boyfriend and your brother?”
“First of all, I’m not Heston.” I reach out and grab her dog tags when she paces by, stopping her in her tracks. I’ve noticed that, more and more, she’s started wearing them outside of her shirt, almost like she’s indulging my impulse to touch some part of her. I use it to gently tug her between my legs as I lean against the car. “Second of all, like I keep saying, people find me endearing. Including parents. I’m likable as hell. Everyone really needs to stop underestimating my talent for sweet-talk.”
She rolls her eyes, but I see the small tug of a smile on her lips. Damn, I just want to kiss her. I don’t, instead tucking her hair behind her ear. “We can figure that out later. Is Georgia waiting for you?”
“She dropped me off,” Sugar says, holding my stare. “I was actually hoping you’d give me a ride back to school when you’re done here.”
“I can do that,” I answer, still thinking of that shiver from class, “but how about we go for a drive first?”
Her eyes dart to my mouth then back up. Yeah, she wants to kiss me, too. “A drive, huh?”
“Yeah, I know this place that might be good for taking pictures. A nice view. Thought I’d show it to you.”
She purses her lips like she’s thinking about it, but I already know she’s down long before she responds, “Okay.”
“Let me go clean up and we’ll go.”
I do my best to scrub off the grease and oil, then change clothes in the back room. When I walk out, Sugar’s leaning against the Shelby, her dark hair showing tints of red in afternoon sunlight. Fuck, the sight of her against my car, staring into the distance as the wind blows her hair around, is a better view than anything else in this town.
I open the door for her, taking the opportunity to catch a whiff of her hair, and then slide into the driver’s seat. I crank the engine and look over at her, grinning to myself.
“What?” she asks, shifting in her seat.
I shrug. “I just like seeing you over there.”
I cut off the main road and head over the bridge that leads across the lake. There’s a quiet spot that overlooks the dam and I slow the car, parking under a large oak tree.
We get out and walk around to the front. I watch her take it in, feeling electrified when her mouth curls into a surprised grin. There’s a wide view of the lake out here. In the golden glow of the sunset, it looks like a nice summer day, but it’s January and the trees are bare. There’s a chill in the air and I see her shiver, but it’s not exactly the kind I’d been hoping for.
I take off my jacket and offer it to her. “What do you think?”
“It’s fucking killer,” she says, blinking down at my jacket. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly accepts it, draping it around her shoulders. “I wish I had my camera.”
“We can come out again sometime,” I assure.
“None of the other people in the club have this view of the campus. Is that the bell tower?”
“Yep.” The top of the tower peeks out of the trees. “The Devil’s Tower. Or the Stairway to Hell. It has a few names.”
“Georgia said not to go up there with anyone unless I wanted to. Something about a secret society. Any idea what that’s about?”
I send her a smirk. “I could tell you, but you know how secret societies work. I’d have to sacrifice you after, probably in some dumb and unnecessarily sexual ritual with really bad Latin, swearing fealty to Satan, yadda yadda.”
Sugar would make a kick-ass Devil. She already fits in with all the playthings. She’s got balls of steel and is sharp as a tack. She has secrets. She has courage. But there’s no way that’s going to happen with only a semester left. The idea of taking her up in that tower and branding her with the mark is definitely appealing.
She leans back against the hood of the Shelby, something I would have thrown a goddamn fit about two days ago. Now, Jasmine is so battered and bruised that it seems stupid to care. “I watch Dateline, you know. That’s not really the kind of joke you want to make when you’ve got me alone in a deserted place.”
“It’s not as sinister as they like to make it seem.” Resting against the car beside her, I explain, “The way it works is that the Devils take girls up the stairway and mark them in the tower.”
“Mark them?” she asks, head tilting curiously. “How?”
“Well, if they’re really dating or serious it’d be something visible, like a hickey.” I push back her hair and press a slow kiss to the skin under her ear. I don’t mark her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. “Or it may go further with a hook-up. Blow jobs, hand-jobs, even full-on fucking.”
Her face screws up. “While people are right outside?”
I laugh. “The thrill of possibly getting caught is part of the fun. Or so I’m told,” I add quickly. “The Devils were officially disbanded last year—mostly because of my brother—but traditions die hard at Preston. Someone may be up there getting marked right now.”
She turns to hold my gaze. “Have you ever been up there?”
That is not a conversation I want to have right now—if ever—but getting Sugar’s trust is important and I don’t want to lie. “On a dare. Last year.”
I wait for her to ask who I was with, but she doesn’t. She just nods, seeming unsurprised. “We have a place like that back home, too. Well, kind of.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s called Cliff Cave. Really original, right?” Rolling her eyes, she explains, “It’s the place to hook up. It’s kind of a rite of passage to lose your virginity up there, but god knows why. It’s cold and dark and wet, and smells like a mossy armpit. I could have come up with a million better places to lose my virginity.”
I look at her, head jerking back in surprise. Surely, she can’t be saying… “What, you’ve been up there?”
But she nods, looking nonplussed. “Toby Catchall. Halloween, junior year.” Her nose wrinkles. “He kept calling it ‘Clit Cave’, which is hilarious considering he couldn’t find one with a map and a compass. He was nice, though.”