“That'd be my choice, too,” Church says, standing up and reaching out to hand me the can. He drops it into my palm, making sure our fingers don't touch. I take note of that.
He sits back down on his own bed as I crack the top on my drink and take a sip.
“Holy shit, that goes down smooth,” I murmur, and Church smirks.
“Is that what you told Spencer?” he asks, and I roll my eyes.
“I didn't suck his dick.”
“Not yet.”
I narrow my eyes on Church Montague, but he just sits there, all casual and sprawled, like he owns the place. Hell, maybe he does? I have no idea. But I'm pretty sure the Montagues are the richest family to have a student at this school.
“Tell me about your parents,” I start, and he shakes his head.
“Tell me what you're going to say to Spencer. He won't be happy about this.”
“He won't be happy?” I ask, leaning forward. “I'm not happy about it. Did you try to argue with Archie?” I'm not sure why I even ask that. It just seems that Church has been arguing on my behalf with my dad for a while. Maybe that's his thing, just what he does as the leader of this little crew?
“I asked the headmaster if he couldn't be persuaded otherwise.” Church takes a noisy sip from his straw, eyes leveled on me. The intensity of his stare is unnerving; it makes me squirm. “Even a bribe didn't work. He threatened me with detention. Me. A Montague. Can you believe that?”
“Oh, the audacity,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “But really, you tried to bribe him?”
“Works with most people,” Church says, and then sighs. “But then, I'm sure the school board picked your father as headmaster for a reason. It isn't easy to find someone who can control an entire population of rich, spoiled brats without succumbing to a little bribery in the process.”
“So at least you can admit it, that you're a rich, spoiled brat?”
“I didn't mean me,” Church continues, cocking a honeyed brow and setting his drink aside. “I meant everyone else.” He smiles again, like he really expects me to find his joke funny. I stand up and put my hands on my hips.
“You don't think you're a spoiled brat?” I ask, sipping my coffee. It really is heart-stoppingly good. I turn the can around and study the label, discovering that it's a locally produced product from two towns over. Nice.
“Do you?” Church retorts, and I pause.
He has a point there.
“If I were a spoiled brat, don't you think I'd be able to convince my father not to ship me across the country? He basically tricked me to get me here, and now that I finally want to stay, he's forcing me to leave again?”
“He cares about you,” Church says, with this little hint of understanding in his voice. My brows go up, and I step forward to put my can on the nightstand, tripping on a pair of slippers that are tucked halfway under the bed. I go sprawling, but Church reaches up and catches the can of coffee in one hand, managing to keep it from spilling as I tumble into him.
We end up front to front on his bed, the can held out to one side, our lips precariously close. Not a split-second later, the door opens and there's Spencer with a key in his hand, and wide, wide eyes.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?!” he shouts, storming into the room and snatching the can of coffee from Church's outstretched hand. He sets it aside and tosses the keys on the opposite bed. “Alright, get up, Montague. I'm kicking your ass.”
“Spencer,” I groan, pushing up to my feet and turning to face him. He steps forward suddenly and cups my face in his hands, leaning in and kissing me so deeply that my toes curl and my mind goes completely blank but for him. Where am I? What am I doing? The only thing that seems to matter in that moment is that this boy is touching me, kissing me, making me dream of things I never allowed myself before.
Remember how I said I didn't believe in true love? I mean, we're not there yet, but I could easily see how it could happen. Spencer makes me feel … different, like I’m made of bubbles, fragile but free. I could float anywhere.
He steps back and exhales, giving Church a dark look, one that reminds me of the way he stared at me that first night in the forest, when he pinned me to a tree by my neck. Glad we're way past that now.
“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Church sits up and grabs his mocha frap-whatever, taking a sip before he bothers to answer.
“Why don't you ask Charlotte? She's the one that tripped and fell.”
