“Girl, don’t make me answer a question you already know. My question to you is: what are you going to do with those gorgeous twins of yours?”
“The twins? Mine?” I choke out, but I already know I have a bit of a problem here.
It’s not just Spencer that I like, but … Micah and Tobias, too.
Either I’m just a greedy romance addict or else, there’s something here I need to explore.
Now how the hell do I talk to the guys about that?The coursework at Adamson Academy is broken into semesters, but during the second half of the last semester, all juniors are required to take a three day health, safety, and home economics seminar.
“This is ridiculous,” I murmur as the twins argue over who's going to help me into my apron. Yes, my apron. We're all wearing them, like a sea of glittering 1950s housewives or something.
“Based on the number of wrinkled blazers and slacks I see here today,” Mr. Johansen begins, adjusting his coke-bottle glasses as he meanders through the class, “you all are in serious need of learning how to use an iron.” He pauses to give me a look, squinting dramatically. “Particularly you, Mr. Carson.”
“Yeah, Mr. Carson,” the twins wheedle, each taking one half of the apron ties and pulling them tight. “Especially you.”
“I know how to use an iron,” I grumble as Mark Grandam snorts at his station next to us.
“How about a course on learning how to hire good help? My family pays people to do this stuff for us.” Several of the boys snicker, and Church frowns. He's the richest guy in school, too, and if he’s annoyed at the comment, well, that just tells you what a stupid douche-canoe Mark is. Makes me like Church just that much more though.
“A man who cannot take care of himself is less than an infant,” Mr. Johansen says, and Spencer grins, flipping Mark off. The football player jock frowns, nostrils flaring, but he doesn't say anything. He knows he'd get his ass kicked by the Student Council if he did.
“Prick,” Spencer mumbles, shaking his head and flipping silver hair off his forehead in a way that makes me want to give off this stupidly goofy smile.
“Now, with you … it could definitely happen.”
Like, what the hell does that mean, Ross?! He is seriously failing me in the gay bestie department. I mean, probably because he still hates me and all that.
“Let's beat him up,” Spencer suggests, and the twins grunt in agreement.
“I believe a more subtle approach to the situation would be prudent,” Church says, rolling up his sleeves, taking a sip of his coffee and then staring down at the ironing board for a moment like he’s trying to decipher ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.
“Oh for crap's sake,” I murmur, pushing him aside and grabbing the iron. I check the tag on the garment we're supposed to be practicing on, fill the iron's reservoir with water, and then turn it to its lowest setting. With my left palm, I smooth out all the wrinkles, and then get to work. I'm finished before Mr. Johansen even starts giving out his idiot-proof instructions to the class. “There. All done. Can we talk about the murder mystery situation now?”
“Holy crap, Chuck, that was impressive,” Spencer says, blinking at me. “Are all poor people good at stuff like this?” I just stare at him, one brow twitching.
“I swear to god, I'm going to punch you in the balls.” I push my glasses up my nose, noticing the way Ranger's studying Mark. The dark-haired VP of the Student Council is looking at the guy with narrowed sapphire eyes, his mouth in a flat line. “What?” I ask, and he blinks like he's coming to, turning his attention back to me.
“Don't you think if you knew about a suicide at school, and your best friend was missing, you'd be … I don't know, a little more despondent?”
“Mark is guilty,” the twins say, picking up our list of tasks for the day. The first was to iron the garments on the rack behind us, the second is to bake a cake from scratch (hah, we got that one in the bag) … I grab the list from them because I can't remember what other useless things we're supposed to be doing today.
Ah, okay, polishing silver (um, old-fashioned much?), using vinegar and baking soda to clean the dorm bathroom, and … I pause and swallow hard, the lump getting stuck in my throat.
“Are you okay, Chuck?” Tobias asks, leaning down to look into my face. He glances from me to the paper in my hand and then points at the line in question. “Is it the practice putting a condom on part that's getting you? Or the STD board games part?”
“Let me see that,” Spencer snaps, pulling the paper from my hand and looking down at it. “Oh, shit. There really is a whole sex segment, isn't there? Didn't we already go over this stuff in junior high? It's a little late to go over it now, isn't it?”
