The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,33

and slide my palms over my face. Between the kiss with Spencer, the shadow in the doorway on Halloween, and the mountain of schoolwork I'm behind on, I feel like I might have a nervous breakdown.

Since when did life get so damn hard?

Sand, sun, and surf. That used to be my motto. Now it's … secrets, standoffs, and syrup. Yep, syrup. After I bailed on Culinary Club the other day sans flour, the Student Council tracked me down, and the twins held me still while Ranger poured maple syrup in my hair.

“I hate my life,” I groan, wrapping my arms around my head and putting my forehead to my knees.

“Why's that?” a voice asks cheerfully, and I lift my head up to find Church Montague standing in front of me. He smiles, and it lights up his whole face. Everything but his eyes. His skin even crinkles at the edges, but his gaze … it stays ice-cold.

“You wouldn't understand,” I grumble, glancing over at the forest on my right. The woods are thick and dark and untamed, and in the distance, I hear an owl hooting again. They're everywhere out here—some species called short-eared owls—but I hate them because they add an ominous tint to every moment.

Dickheads.

“Wouldn't I?” Church asks, tucking one hand into the pocket of his slacks. “Because your father called me over here, so I could offer up my services as your tutor.” I snort, and shake my head. What a ridiculous idea. There's not a snowball's chance in hell I'm letting Church tutor me. He'd give me the wrong answers just to fuck with my head.

“Why don't you just beat me up instead?” I retort, standing up and moving away from him toward the car. I've somehow stained the crisp white shirt that goes with my uniform, and the Student Council looks for any excuse to tag me with detention. I've got another uniform, unopened and in the trunk.

Opening up the front door, I lean down and pull the lever to pop it. Church looks at me like I'm an archaeologist on a freaking dig, like he's never seen such an ancient piece of technology.

“Yeah, it's not a Beemer, I know, bummer.” I head over to the trunk, and then pause when I feel movement behind me. Spinning around, I find Church far too close to me. He isn't smiling anymore.

He shoves me into the trunk and steps forward, grabbing my chin with his fingers so hard that it hurts.

“I warned you to stop digging into Ranger's sister,” he says, voice cool and smooth and matter-of-fact. It seems so at odds with his gold-brown hair and honey colored irises. But his gaze … no, that darkness fits right in with his black, broken soul.

“Let go of me,” I snarl, but Church just squeezes harder, and a small whimper escapes me. There's something about that sound that gives him pause, and his grip relaxes just enough that I'm able to turn my head away. But when I try to get out of the trunk, Church shoves me back in, pushes my legs in after me, and closes it on me. “Hey!” I shout, starting to feel a small surge of panic. If Dad's already retreated to his room for the night, then he might not hear me out here. I could be trapped all night. “Church!”

I can hear his footsteps moving off down the path before he pauses, and a small surge of relief races through me. He moves back in my direction, and I get ready for the trunk to open. Instead, it sounds like Church is bending down and putting his mouth near the lock.

“Sleep well, Chuck. And remember: this is your last chance. If you keep digging up old skeletons, you might just get shoved in the grave along with them.”

And then Church is walking away, and I'm left to scream myself hoarse inside the trunk of my dad's car.

Eventually, I give up and fall asleep. Dad will be up early, and then I can start screaming again. There's no point in it now. That, and like an idiot, I left my phone sitting on the kitchen island. Fat load of good that does me.

After god only knows how long of listening to the owls, I drift off. When I wake up later, shivering like crazy, I find that the trunk's been opened and moonlight's spilling in and across my skin in silver beams.

Blinking stupidly, I sit up and rub at my eyes. Church