of his cake into the trash.
“Why the apron then?” I ask, and I swear he grows spines from his back and his eyes glitter with rage as he turns to glare over his shoulder. He looks like a dragon about to tear the head off an unsuspecting peasant.
“Do you always ask so many personal questions that are none of your damn business? Get out of here, and go to hell.”
“And why always the pretty, frilly aprons?” I push, knowing there's not a lot he can do to me when he's naked. All I have to do is slip out the door and run for it; he won't chase me. I mean, at least I don't think he would … He's such a salty bastard though, I wouldn't put it past him entirely.
Ranger slams the mixing bowl in the sink and turns to glare at me, chest heaving with frustration.
“They were my grandmother's,” he grinds out, and I raise my eyebrows.
“You cook naked in your grandmother's aprons? Do you know how weird that sounds?”
“GET OUT!” he roars, and I scramble toward the door, pulling it partially open as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down.
“Hey, um,” I start, feeling my heart flutter strangely in my chest as I meet his blue eyes. “I'm just teasing. I think it's cool you have your grandma's aprons, and … you know, cooking naked is quirky. Just … don't leave any pubes in the sink.” Ranger picks up a set of metal measuring cups and throws them at me.
I manage to make it out of the room just in time to avoid being pegged with them.
“You're just now telling me about this?” Dad says, looking between the two notes before he lifts his blue gaze up to my face. He's clearly furious; his hands are white-knuckled on the paper.
“The first time, I …” Thought I was going back to California to stay. Didn't think it was important, okay? “Thought it was a joke. But—”
“This is ridiculous,” Dad murmurs, sighing and turning to drop the notes on the counter. “You're moving back in here. I don't know why I ever let you move back to the dorms.”
“I don't want to live here!” I snap, and there's this unspoken with you that I think we both hear. I'm panting now, and Dad's just staring at me like he doesn't know who I am anymore. Things have been rough between us since Mom went away. I mean, I love the guy and all, but sometimes he just pisses me off. Pretty sure the feeling's mutual. “I want to stay in the dorms.”
“First, you come up with this story about a man with a knife, and now these.” Dad points to the notes. “Either you're telling the truth in which case, I'm not putting my only daughter in danger. Or else you're lying because you think I'll send you back to your aunt—which is not happening, by the way.”
“The last place in the world I want to be is California,” I snap, curling up the edge of my lip in disgust. “And I'm not lying. I almost didn't tell you about what was going because I didn't want to get bullied into living here with you. I'm seventeen; I need my own space.”
“We need to have an assembly,” Dad mumbles, more to himself than to me. He's barely looking at me anymore, switching into teacher mode. He's been like that my whole life, a teacher, an administrator, a counselor for troubled kids. Sometimes I just wish he'd be my father for all of two seconds. “We'll announce the girls' program, and—”
“No!” I snap, and Dad pauses, turning to look at me like I've lost my mind. And now I remember why I didn't want to tell my own dad about a guy with a freaking knife. Because of this BS. “This is my choice to make. I'm not going to be your guinea pig, so you can look good to all the rich assholes on the school board.”
“This is for your own safety, Charlotte. If we let the student body know you're here, then—”
“No.” I'm staring him dead in the face, my glasses slipping down my nose, my curly hair flopping into my eyes. “I'm not going to open myself up to scrutiny like that. You're a guy, you don't understand. Being the only girl in an entire academy full of teenage dudes is not something I'm interested in. Besides, you're full of shit.” Dad's