MILA 2.0_ Redemption - Debra Driza Page 0,71

pair of gardening gloves dangled from the utility belt around his waist, and the blades of grass clinging to his work boots made my shoulders relax with relief. Not the dean or a teacher. A landscaper.

“Sorry,” I said, with feigned embarrassment.

The man pursed his lips, hands on his hips. He did a quick survey of our surroundings—less the building and more the foliage. “You’d better not have busted any of those branches. . . .” he threatened.

I pushed subtly on Hunter’s chest, hoping he got my message. Retreat.

He backed away, one step, then two. “We didn’t, I swear. We were careful. Just wanted a place to be alone, you know what I mean?”

“I should really alert campus security, let them deal with you,” he said. Hunter and I both froze, my hands turning to ice. No. Please, don’t do that, I urged silently.

“. . . but I remember what it was like, back when I was in high school. The good old days. But find a room next time, or I will call security. Now scoot.”

“Thank you and we will.” Hunter whirled and retraced our path. I felt the man watching us as we left, so I was careful to stay on Hunter’s far side, keeping my face in the shadows.

“Quick thinking back there,” I said, when we were finally out of earshot.

“Thanks.” His gaze lingered on me for a few seconds before he focused on the path ahead.

We arrived at the spot where we’d left Lucas, behind the bleachers and near the giant tree.

The sight of him helped calm the aftershocks still thump-thump-thumping through my heart. I needed his perspective on what I’d found.

Just then, Montford scored another goal. The bleachers erupted in a mass of jumping, screaming bodies. On the field, the players zipped past and high-fived one another.

“We’re back,” I said, when the noise dwindled to just barely deafening. As soon as he saw me, Lucas smiled, and I answered with an even bigger grin of my own.

Hunter remained a few feet away, eyeing us in moody silence.

“That sounds slightly terrifying,” Lucas said, when I told him how close we’d come to getting caught. “How did you throw him off?”

“I . . . um . . .”

“She kissed me. That seemed to convince him we were just sneaking off to have some fun,” Hunter announced.

“Oh,” Lucas said. His smile wavered. “That sounds like . . . quick thinking.”

“I must have really sold it, too, because the guy bought it hook, line, and sinker.” This time, there was no mistaking the barb in Hunter’s voice.

I was about to tell my faux boyfriend to stuff it, but Lucas got there first. “I’m sure he did,” he said evenly. “Only an oblivious ass wouldn’t see what an amazing girl you were with.”

Flustered, I gave Lucas the rundown while we waited for the others. “Something isn’t right about that building,” I told him. “But I need some time to figure out how to get past the retinal scan, and I don’t even know when we’re coming back.” Then I took a deep breath and blurted out, “Next time, you’re posing as my boyfriend.”

I caught a hint of pink in Lucas’s cheeks, and a smile in his eyes, but he let the subject drop.

And then Daniel approached with Abby and Samuel. He rubbed his hands together and shared the good news he’d heard from the dean. “Saddle up, kids. You’re going to Montford classes in the morning.”

FIFTEEN

Four pairs of eyes inspected us as we stood in the administration building.

The dean had greeted us briefly, then handed us off to the student welcome committee, which were the two boys and two girls staring us down.

I didn’t recognize the first girl. The dean had called her Celeste, but she quickly corrected that to Celia. Her glasses were pink and square, dominating an elfin face. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a pristine ponytail, and the collar of her green polo shirt looked freshly ironed.

I did recognize the second girl, with the jittery, hazel gaze: Hannah Peckles. Her smile was friendly but distracted; her thin fingers had stubby, ragged nails. Most importantly—she was one of our grant students.

J. D. Rothschild was the third greeter. When he joined Hannah, the skin on the back of my neck prickled. Was this another stroke of luck? Or something more sinister?

I mean, all of a sudden we were welcome to stay here for a few days. “Get the feel of the place,” the dean had said. It

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