Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,19

a desk-dresser combo shoved up by the window. Most notably, a raven-haired girl is rolling up a T-shirt, tucking it neatly into the top drawer of the bookshelf. She doesn’t notice me, and I take the opportunity to observe her, taking in her petite body, long earrings, a pair of the same cute shoes I’d seen last week while visiting a boutique with my mother. They cost six-hundred dollars.

“E-excuse me? Who are you?” I ask, so taken aback that the first words come out in a sputter. I turn off the music. “What are you doing?”

The girl turns, her stick-straight hair swinging behind her, and her eyes light up. “Hi! I’m Josephine Wentworth. Everyone calls me Josie.” She thrusts her hand toward me, but I just stare at it. Slowly, her hand falls. “It’s funny, actually,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear, “there was this whole thing at Sparrowood Academy last semester—like a whole scandal with drugs and cheating and blackmail. My parents were just livid when they found out and decided to move me for my junior year at the last minute.”

I’d heard about shit hitting the fan at that school. A couple of kids went to jail, if I remember correctly. Sounds like same-old prep school bullshit. Except maybe, unlike Preston criminals, those guys are actually still in jail. I cross my arms over my chest. “What does that have to do with you being in my room?”

“Well…” She frowns, looking around the space. “The suites were all taken, and mother didn’t think it was appropriate for me to live without a kitchen of my own. Headmaster Collins agreed and,” her frown turns into a grin, “I guess we’re roommates!”

I stare at her. “Roommates? But this is a solo. A suite. My suite.”

I have plans for this suite. Lots of plans that don’t include some transfer Sparrowood chick sleeping in my damn living room. Like not having to tip-toe around, or be quiet, or having to be considerate like I did all of last year. Is it too much to ask that a girl has a little privacy?

I open my mouth to announce this, but Josie just hands me a sheet of paper with move-in instructions from the housing office. “Sorry,” she says, lips quirked in a smile, implying that she’s not sorry at all. “But hey, don’t worry. I have a feeling before it’s all over, we’ll be the best of friends.”

Will we? Because I have a best friend. A couple of them, actually. And I don’t want any more. I stare blankly at her for a few more moments, but she just turns the music back up and systematically fills her drawers with her designer clothing. Who the hell does this girl think she is?

I spin on my heel and go into my room, shutting the door behind me. Falling back on my bed, I glower up at the ceiling. How has everything gone so wrong so fast? First the P.E. fiasco, then the bullshit with Heston. Now this.

Whatever plans I had for having the best year ever are slowly falling apart.

4

Heston

* * *

The apartment is on the back side of campus, past the old gym, wedged up awkwardly against the trees. It’s cold, cramped, and has that dusty old-person smell that reminds me of the library in my grandmother’s house up in Virginia. It features a cheap, basic living room set, a bare double bed in the bedroom, three plates and five forks in the kitchen, and a shower curtain that smells like a newly manufactured beach ball.

I stand in there, pulling a face at a dark ring around the drain of the bathroom sink, and make a mental note to buy something harder than beer.

For now, I stock the medicine cabinet with four bottles of Mylanta.

I know it’s better than a prison cell, but from here, it’s hard to see how. Being a Wilcox is all I’ve ever known, and that’s always come with high ceilings, marble floors, my own private rooms, decked-out bathrooms, media rooms, hot tubs, slick luxury cars, and yachts. This apartment makes me feel too big, like I could put my shoulder through a wall at any given moment.

The only good thing about it is the trail that leads down to the lake, but I don’t even see that being of much use. The only way to handle this is to do my time and get the fuck out. Preston Prep is the last place I ever planned