RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,115

the other night quiet, but it’s there all the same, an unspoken agreement between the two of us: it would be bad for both of us if anyone knew we’d torn each other’s clothes off and fucked in his bedroom.

My heart shoots up into my throat as I see Dashiell enter through the academy’s entrance, shaking his head like a wet dog, sending droplets of water flying from the ends of his dark blond hair. Pax appears after him, a broad smile spread across his face, laughing at the top of his lungs at some private joke.

And then there’s Wren.

My breath stills in my chest.

He enters the school, dressed head to toe in black, the shoulders of his hoody darkened by the rain, the hood pulled up over his head, his eyes already searching, searching, searching...

He finds me, standing on the bottom step of the stairs, and the lights overhead dim. I step down, sliding along the edge of the hallway, my back against the wall, and the Riot House boys shove their way through the crowds, still caught up in whatever conversation they were having when they arrived. Two of them are, at least. Wren stills on the other side of the hall, coming to a stop opposite me. A tense moment passes where we stare at each other across the sea of bustling bodies, our line of sight clear, then obscured, clear, then obscured by the flow of students as they pass us by,

How is no one else reacting to this? How can they not feel the electricity in the air? How is everyone else so blind, and deaf and dumb to the pressure that’s building around them as Wren Jacobi and I share this blisteringly surreal moment?

“Forgotten the way?”

I glance up and Carina’s there, clutching her school bag to her chest, wearing a pristine white t-shirt and a tartan skirt that should be illegal, it’s so short.

“Sorry?”

“What are you doing, just standing there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says, laughing.

“Oh. Uh, nothing. Sorry.”

“I thought you were gonna go save us a seat. Come on. If we don’t hurry, someone else will grab our sofa.”

I look up and Wren’s gone.

Doctor Fitzpatrick’s already at the front of his room when Carina and I enter. “Come on, girls. You know the punishment if you’re late,” he says, grinning.

“What’s the punishment for being late?” I hiss.

Carina grabs my arm and pulls me toward the sofa. “You don’t want to know.”

Once we’re sitting down, I grab my notepad out of my bag, twisting a pen over in my fingers nervously, surveying the room. I look at every other student in the class before I give in and allow my gaze to drift (as casually as I can manage) over to the battered leather sofa on the opposite side of the room.

Wren’s right where he’s supposed to be...but he’s not sprawled out, lying on his back, staring angrily at the ceiling today. He’s sitting up like a normal person, eyes locked on his hands, his hair falling into his face, a tiny frown pulling at his dark brows. Dashiell and Pax are sitting on the floor, underneath the window, but they’re not sniping at one another today. They both seem to be covertly watching Wren, muttering to each other under their breath. Dash must feel me looking at him. His head whips up and he looks right at me.

Wait. No. Not at me. At Carina.

“Asshole,” she grouses. “What kind of sick fuck do you need to be to lead someone on, take their fucking virginity, humiliate them in the worst way imaginable, and then stare at them every available opportunity you get afterward? Like, what is he even trying to accomplish, looking at me like that?”

He’s not trying to accomplish anything. He’s reliving something. Replaying it over in his head, savoring every second as he remembers stripping Carina out of her clothes and fucking her senseless. I know, because I know that look. That same dazed, distant expression has appeared on my face at least ten times since Saturday night.

I didn’t text him.

He didn’t text me.

What does that mean? Were we both waiting for the other person to reach out first? Have we both been stubborn and stupid, too caught up in our own pride to even communicate with each other? Or have I gotten this wrong? Is he just content, now that he’s had me? Have I given him the one thing he wanted, and now I can expect