each other's dicks!” I shout, and the twins laugh as I shove past them and back into the diner.
“We just wanted you to know we weren't going to neglect you, that's all,” Micah calls out as I grab my purse and storm over to the side door we came through, peeking out to make sure the coast is clear before I leave and slam it behind me.
Their laughter follows me all the way back to the car.
The Monday after we get back from break, I keep my head down and go about my day as usual, doing my best to blend into the shadows. The twins don't pay me any special attention other than to ask what happened to the dick on my face.
After that, I'm left well-enough alone. Even Tuesday at Culinary Club isn't very eventful. Spencer stares at me with narrowed turquoise eyes, and Ranger scowls a lot, but Church just sits in the corner sipping his coffee and ignoring everyone in favor of his phone. The twins dump a bag of flour on my head, but that's nothing in comparison to the spiders, or the weeks of detention and janitorial work. I'll take it.
“How long did you wait before you came back to let me out of that trunk?” I ask Church on Thursday, now a bit more comfortable with the idea that the twins really are going to keep my secret. Apparently, as long as they can keep fucking with me, they're totally okay keeping things to themselves.
“Me?” he asks, blinking pretty honeyed eyes at me and smiling. Again, the expression doesn't reach his gaze. Not even close. “Oh, I didn't let you out. I sort of hoped you'd be stuck in there all night.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Oh, and your father's very insistent on the idea of me tutoring you. Meet me in the library tomorrow after class. Don't be late; I abhor tardiness.”
He starts to walk off, and I reach out to grab the edge of his blazer. The look he throws me over his shoulder is cold fucking hell. My eyes widen, but I don't let go.
“You didn't let me out of the trunk?” I ask, and he raises a blond brow at me.
“No. I didn't exactly have the keys, now did I?” Church politely picks the bit of fabric from between my fingers, freeing himself before he turns and starts off down the hall. I'm left standing there with a pit of ice in my stomach that I can't make sense of.
If Church didn't let me out of the trunk … then who did?
The library at Adamson All-Boys Academy is this monstrous tomb, like a massive mausoleum, made all the worse because of the undertaker … I mean librarian, Mr. Dave. As soon as he sees me walk in on Friday, he's glaring at me from behind his desk.
I ignore him and weave through the massive wood tables towards the back where Church Montague is sitting, hands steepled on his crossed legs, eyes focused directly on me. He watches me as I take the seat next to him—the tables are far too wide for me to sit across and still have his help while studying—and pull out my iPad and my laptop.
Neither of us speaks for several minutes, and I look up to find Church watching me. He's smiling, and his face is pleasant, but those cold shadows are still there, that darkness that he hides so well brewing just beneath the surface.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask finally, and Church slides his amber gaze over to mine.
“Because I'm the Student Council President, and that's my job: to help others.”
“I think you're a sociopath,” I blurt, and his smile gets a bit wider.
“I think you mean psychopath. Sociopaths have trouble controlling their emotions, and are prone to emotional outbursts. Psychopaths don't feel human emotion per se, but are extremely skilled in imitating it.” He grins at me, and I frown. “But I assure you: I'm not either.”
“Oh, wow, that's so convincing,” I grumble, shoving my glasses up my face and pushing up the sleeves of the baggy blue Adamson sweater I'm wearing. We're required to wear our blazers every day of the week, except on Friday when we can go without, or don a school hoodie. I'm quite literally swimming in mine which is good; it helps hide the boobs I didn't bother to bind this morning.
Hopefully nobody's noticed. I was just too damn tired. I hate sleeping in dad's