Page 32 of The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy 1)
The man stands there for a long moment, and then I see a flash of silver at his side. Like … a knife?
My breath catches, and I feel a scream building in my chest. My choices now are to stand my ground, yell, and pound on the door in the hopes that my dad will wake up and get down here in time … or run.
But Archie Carson is a heavy sleeper, and sometimes he puts his noise machine on, and … I take off like a shot, heading for the boys' dorm and that open fire door that I'm just praying is still cracked.
I can hear pounding footsteps behind me, the panting breath of someone running full-tilt. Fingers brush against the back of my blazer, and I slip right out of it without pausing for even a second. Thank god I had that front button undone.
Coming around the bend with the main building on one side, and the boys' dorm straight ahead of me, I slip on the gravel, and the man tumbles right over me. I'm crouched down, my knee throbbing with pain from hitting the path so hard, and the shadow creeper flies over my head to land on his back in the grass.
This is my chance.
I stand up and kick the hand with the knife as hard as I can, knocking it loose. There's not enough time to reach down and grab it because the man is lunging for my ankles, so I just take off, sprinting so hard that it feels like my heart might just beat straight out of my chest.
I'm more careful when I take that second bend, skidding slightly but keeping my feet. When I glance over my shoulder, I don't see anyone.
Unfortunately, I'm so busy looking behind me that I don't bother to look ahead.
My head whips back around just in time to see Ranger's sapphire eyes widen in surprise. We collide with a pair of double grunts, tumbling to the ground with me on top. My hands are fisted in his nightshirt, and our mouths are … disturbingly close.
He exhales, and I can taste minty toothpaste on his breath, see the surprise in his eyes as we adjust to the feeling of my body settling against his. He's got long, dark lashes, made even more obvious by the silver moonlight. As we breathe, our chests rise and fall in tandem with one another.
It's like one of those perfect movie moments when the hero and the heroine have an accidental kiss …
“Wh-what the fuck?” Ranger spits, and then he shoves me unceremoniously off of him. Oh, that's right. He thinks I'm a dude. And he's a straight dude. Who hates me. “Ah, shit, I'm bleeding,” he grumbles, reaching up to wipe some blood from his lower lip.
“Sorry,” I moan, rolling to one side and sitting up. I'm facing in the direction of the path, but there's no sign of the shadow man with the knife. Did you just hear yourself, Chuck?! You said shadow man … with a freaking knife?! Kind of a big deal. I'm still panting, my heart racing furiously, as I peer into the darkness looking for my own, personal boogeyman.
There's no sign of him.
I sigh with relief.
“Are you fucking insane?” Ranger snaps, grabbing a discarded cigarette off the ground and lighting up. He doesn't look at me as he takes a drag. “What the hell are you doing careening around campus at two in the morning?”
“It's two?” I ask, and then feel my jaw clench with anger. No wonder my neck hurts so bad. Not only did I just have a head-on collision, but I was trapped in that stupid trunk for like five freaking hours.
“Yeah, numb nuts,” Ranger quips, and I decide that's pretty much the first time I've ever been called numb nuts. “What are you doing out here?”
“What are you doing out here?” I repeat, realizing that the reason I can't see anything out there in the darkness is because my glasses have gone missing. With a curse, I end up on the ground like Velma in Scooby-Doo, patting around the gravel as I look for my—hopefully—unbroken glasses.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Ranger repeats in this snippy asshole tone that I'm well-familiar with at this point. “Smoking a goddamn cigarette.”
“Can you help me find my glasses?” I ask, ignoring his insulting tone. I'm starting to panic here. If I lose my glasses, Dad will kill me. And then he'll make me wear my contacts, and I'm sure the whole school will know if I don't have the big, ugly frames to protect me.
“No.” Ranger continues to stand there and smoke, one foot up on the bench that was carved by some long ago students out of a fallen log. He's dressed in a black and white striped nightshirt that's completely unbuttoned.
