“Right.” Spencer rolls his eyes. “She just happened to trip and fall on top of you?”
“You think we'd be doing anything else?” I ask, and that mollifies him a bit. Spencer takes a sip from my coffee and sighs.
“Sorry, it's been a week.” He studies me with his turquoise eyes, and I flush. Looking at him like this, all I can think about is the way he moved above me, inside of me. I bite my lip and glance away.
I'm going to miss him.
I'm sure he'll move on from me.
“What are you doing over here anyway?” Spencer asks, tucking one hand into the pocket of his navy blue slacks. He looks good in the Adamson All-Boys Academy uniform; they all do.
“My dad is sending me back to California at the end of the week,” I whisper, and Spencer's eyes go wide. “I've got until Friday to decide where I want to go: Los Angeles with my mom or Santa Cruz with my aunt.”
“No.” Spencer turns on his heel and storms off. Church and I exchange a quick glance before I take off after him.
“Where do you think you're going?” I ask, grabbing onto the sleeve of his blue blazer, the blue and red stripes on his arm denoting his position in the Student Council, as well as his job as the sergeant-of-arms. How ironic, isn't it, that the student who's supposed to be in charge of policing the academy is actually the one selling weed on campus?
“To talk to the headmaster,” he says, but I keep my grip on his arm and stop him from going down the stairs. The twins and Ranger are on their way up, and they pause beside us, taking in Spencer's angry expression.
“What's going on now?” Ranger asks, studying us both with those sapphire eyes of his, the matching blue streak in his ebon hair catching the light.
“Chuck is going back to California,” Spencer snaps, frowning hard. His breath is coming in, harsh, angry pants. He's clearly upset, and so am I. I'm not stupid; I know how high school relationships work. If I leave, Spencer will move on. I'll never get to see how far this goes or where we might take it.
I just lost my virginity to the guy. Don't I deserve a chance to explore things with him?
“What? Why?” the twins asks in unison, exchanging a look before turning back to me. “You can't go back now.”
“That's what I told the headmaster,” I snap, because my dad's always been just a little bit more teacher than he is father. “But he doesn't seem inclined to listen to me.”
“Maybe it's best,” Ranger says, pausing with his right hand on the newel post. He looks up to see Spencer gaping at him. “What? Don't look at me like that. I mean, we knew things were dangerous when all that shit happened at the Valentine's Day party, but come on. Someone died. Eugene is dead. Whoever it is that's fucking with us is playing for keeps, and Charlotte is clearly a target. Don't you want her to be safe?”
“You want my dad to send me away?” I choke. I mean, I knew that Ranger and I weren't the closest of friends, but come on! I thought we'd bonded more than that.
“So you don't end up hanging from a tree limb in the woods? Sure.” Ranger takes the last step and pauses next to us on the landing. “Do you want Charlotte to get hurt, Spence?”
“It's Chuck,” I murmur, looking around to make sure none of the other students are on their way out of their rooms.
“Sorry.” Ranger grimaces, looking at me with that dark, scary expression of his. Hard to take him seriously though after seeing him baking shit naked, dressed only in his grandmother's apron. “Chuck.”
“Or Charlie. My grandfather's name was Charlie.” I pause and chew on my lower lip, glancing over to find Micah and Tobias staring at me. “I don't want to go back. I'm not afraid of whoever these assholes are.”
“No, but maybe you should be?” Ranger suggests, moving past us and storming toward his room like he’s pissed all the way off. Church watches him go, leaning in the doorway to his own room.
“Do you want us to talk to the headmaster?” the twins ask as I glance back at them. Tobias is clearly upset; Micah looks resigned but furious. Even though I'm still upset about the whole situation, it's nice to see that they care. “We can be quite persuasive, when we want to be.” They both lift their arms up to the sides in a well-coordinated gesture.
“As much as I appreciate the offer—” I start, and Spencer cuts me off.
“We'll all go talk to him together, plead your case,” he announces, straightening out his blazer and pulling his tie from over his shoulder so that it hangs straight. I've noticed he often tucks it back like that, as if it gets in his way. “I mean, the police ruled Eugene's death a suicide, right? So why still send you away?”
