“He is suspect as fuck,” Micah says, lifting up his red and white checkered Vans shoe and placing it on the dash across from us. The tart scent of cherries drifts around with his movement, and I inhale more deeply than I intended. Spencer notices; I’m sure he does. “I don't trust Jeff for shit.”
“So it's Mark and Jeff, huh?” Ranger asks, giving Micah a raised brow. “They're ten years apart in age, and have zero relation to one another. The former is a rich jock asshole, and the latter is a relatively poor bookstore barista. Why would they kill Eugene? Why go after Charlotte?”
“I don't fucking know. It's just a gut feeling I have.” Micah pushes some hair back from his face while I sit awkwardly between Tobias and Spencer. Frankly, I'd rather be over there between Church and Ranger. There's too much tension on this side of the limo.
“Do you want to hang out when we get back to the academy?” Spencer asks me, voice pitched low enough that I have to strain to hear him. I turn my face slightly in his direction, and he reaches out, grabbing my chin and pressing his mouth to mine. A thrill goes through me, and I end up groaning and leaning in.
Of course … I do not pitch my voice low enough that anyone needs to strain to hear.
Tobias bristles on my other side as I pull back, but he doesn't say anything. Almost losing Spencer gave us all a real bitter taste of reality. Fighting over the little things seems ridiculous right now.
“Well?” Spence asks, but then we pull up the drive near my father's place, and I see him waiting there with Mr. Murphy. Shit. I duck low as Spencer chuckles at me. “The windows are tinted, Chuck. Chill out.”
“I don't want anyone else to know.” I murmur, and Church makes a low sound of acknowledgement.
“That's probably best until we know more about what's going on.” He presses a nearby button, and the window between us and the driver rolls down a crack. “Take us around to the back, please,” he says, and then rolls the window back up. The driver does as he asked, and the boys help shield me until I get inside the back door.
“Do you want to change and meet me somewhere?” Spencer asks, but the twins take up on either side of him.
“You are not getting out of spending time with us,” they say, putting their elbows on Spencer’s shoulders as he frowns at them, one dark brow twitching slightly.
“You don’t get to play ‘possum for a week, come trotting back, and then spend all your time with Virgin Chuck over here.” Micah smirks at me and winks dramatically.
“Non-Virgin Chuck, you mean,” Tobias corrects … just about the moment my dad comes around the corner.
Archibald Carson pauses, staring at me in my sundress, the boys all fanned out in front of me.
“Charlotte,” he says, his voice very low and very strained. My mouth twitches, and I have to resist the urge to grab the decorative iron swordfish off the wall so I can stab Tobias with it.
“Crap,” he murmurs, face flushing. He knows he messed up. Spencer looks like he’s about to make a run for it. I wonder if this is something he’s done a lot of, run from angry fathers? Better not be, I think, but then I can’t seem to get that number out of my head. Five girls. He’s touched five other girls the way he touched me … Jealousy rears its big, ugly head, and I have to swallow hard to keep the emotion down.
“I see we’re no longer interested in playing a male student?” Dad says, approaching through the grass in this slow, easy sort of walk that he’s perfected over the years. Drives teenagers nuts, that menacingly calm approach. Trust me, I know best. Archie specializes in making my life a living hell.
“Just … not with my friends,” I choke out, hating that the jig with Spencer is up. I was sort of hoping that Dad really would pair me up as his roommate, and then … Well, I don’t know. I guess maybe I fantasized about us having wild, illicit sex every night in the dorms?
“Mm-hmm.” Dad scans the group, pushing his glasses up the wide bridge of his nose. “What does Non-Virgin Chuck mean?”
Kill me now, Universe, please, just kill me now.
“Charlotte was truly a cooking virgin when we first met her,” Church supplies, the lie rolling off his lips nice and smooth and easy. He has one arm across his chest, the elbow of the other resting in the palm of his hand, and his head resting on his knuckles. Very casual, very much the look of a Student Council President. “Excuse my fellow council members for being crude, but they find it hilarious to discuss her entry into the wonderful world of culinary arts in such a barbaric and immature manner.” Church splays his fingers on his chest and flashes an award-winning smile. Fuck, he lies as easily as he breathes. That’s terrifying. I file that bit of information away for later.
