her hand, scrunching her knuckles together. He pulled her along the gravel path outside the dining hall, leading her around back. The ocean wind whipped at her hair again, but, Hutch’s oversized grip felt warm and protective around hers. Safe. Which was weird and definitely not safe, her over-analytical brain reminded her, because she’d just met him.
One solitary light jutted out from the roof in the back, illuminating stacked wooden crates and metal dumpsters. Hutch pushed on the metal handle of a lone rusted blue door. “Presto,” he whispered.
Sure enough, it opened right up into the school’s industrial kitchen. No locks here. Hutch led her inside, only letting go of her hand when she was past the threshold.
The door shut silently behind them.
“They don’t lock the kitchen?” Devon’s voice sounded ditzy in her own ears.
She tried to make sense of her surroundings while her brain tried to catch up. How did a package of cookies get her here? Five minutes ago she was alone in her dorm room, and now here she was on a “secret mission” with Hutch, the knobby-kneed prized Keaton legacy. In the dark, her heart began to thump again. Ariel would be proud. This was undeniably stupid and exciting. “A place that bases everything on an honor system leaves a lot of room for stupidity,” Hutch said.
Devon reached for the light switch, but he placed his hand over hers.
“No lights. It’ll give away our position.”
Hutch was just inches from her now. The outside light cast a dim glow through the small window above the door. Devon tilted her face up to him and felt his warm breath on her forehead. His light brown eyes were on Devon, flitting between her nose and lips. His eyelashes were dark but barely registered compared to his wide eyebrows. And his lips had that perfect dent in the middle. Devon found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips. Hutch’s hand tightened over hers for an instant, but then he pushed away. The moment over. If it was a moment at all.
“We’re not supposed to be in here,” Devon whispered.
Hutch hopped on a sterile metal counter, his long legs dangling, as if he had all the time in the world. “Supposed to? Devon, Devon, Devon,” he said in a faux-mocking voice. (So he did know her name.) “ ‘Supposed to’ is such a loaded little phrase. Do you really want to live your life doing everything you’re supposed to do?”
It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He stopped smiling. His eyes dug into Devon, forcing an answer out of her.
“No, I guess not,” Devon stammered.
“Good. Because I figure there’s two kinds of people in the world. The ones who do everything that’s laid out for them, the supposed-tos, and then there’s the people that look above it and do what they want to do. I prefer the latter, but maybe that’s just me. A not-supposed-to.” Hutch shrugged and slid off the counter, tip-toeing to the industrial fridge that hummed in the corner. “Now, how about that milk?”
The school bell echoed across the dark campus.
Curfew!
Devon gasped. She clutched the cookie package to her chest. Bad idea. She was right; this was stupid. She was supposed to be in her dorm room right now. Why did she have to try out her Ariel-like personality so close to curfew? She wasn’t Ariel. That was the whole freaking point.
Hutch didn’t budge.
“Um, we have to go, don’t we?” she hissed at him. This wasn’t a rhetorical question, either. The Companion clearly stated that all students have to be inside their designated dorms by 10:30 P.M. Hutch pursed his lips, as if disappointed. “If you say so.” He crossed to the door and pushed it—but it didn’t open. “Hmm.” He pressed the handle and pushed again. And again. He cracked another smile.
“What?” Devon blurted out. She could feel the panic rising up along her spine, up the back of her neck and flooding her squirming skull. No, she didn’t want to be at Keaton. But that didn’t mean she wanted to get kicked out before classes even started, either.
“You try then,” Hutch said. He stepped aside.
Devon gripped the metal handle and pushed hard against the door. Nothing.
“What are we supposed to do?” Her voice quavered. “They’re gonna wonder where we are. We have to check in. Rule #3b.” Why wasn’t Hutch freaking out? Did being a legacy mean you couldn’t get into trouble? All she could do was imagine packing up her dorm room, taking