The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,78
his precious coffee on the table—“plus an orange juice, and some French toast with hot sauce.”
“You're a strange individual, Charlotte Carson,” he murmurs, the slightest edge of a smile teasing his lips. He looks like a painting, this guy. “Merinda, we're ready to order,” he says, and he doesn't even raise his voice, but she hears him from all the way across the diner. That's how easily he captures attention.
It's a little … scary?
Merinda comes back over, and we put in our food order. My juice comes right away, with a reusable straw that I tuck between my lips and talk around.
“If you all believe Jenica was murdered,” I mumble, sucking down some sugary goodness, “then who do you think murdered her?”
The boys all exchange a look before glancing down at me.
“We have our theories,” Church says, watching me carefully, “but no real answers.” He sighs and sets his coffee down. “Just … don't trust anybody.”
“Not even you?” I ask, quirking a brow.
Slowly, so very slowly, Church turns to look at me, and all the emotion drains from his face, leaving him a beautiful but scary looking statue.
“Especially not me,” he says, and I shiver, turning back to my orange juice.
Not sure if that was … terrifying or sexy.
It should most definitely not have been both.
Something must be wrong with me.
More wrong than simply putting ketchup on my eggs.
Maybe not quite as wrong as unsolved murder …
The Culinary Club has volunteered—against my will—to cater the annual Valentine's Day party that's held at the nearby summer camp. The cluster of cabins sits dead center between our school and Everly All-Girls Academy, another upper crust school that's about a ten hour drive from Nutmeg in a town called Northpointe, Maine.
Layered cakes, cookies, cupcakes, carefully wrapped caramels, and truffles in fancy boxes litter the kitchen counters. I survey them as I reach up and brush my arm across my sweaty forehead, smearing flour everywhere. My glasses are already covered in it.
The last few weeks have been surprisingly quiet: no more notes, no more shadow figures, no more dudes with weapons chasing me through the darkness.
“This party sounds like hell,” I murmur, frosting the top of a vanilla-lavender cupcake with soft heather-purple icing that Ranger nearly killed me over. I put too many drops of his organic, all natural food coloring in it and turned it Teletubby purple. He looked like he was getting ready to wring my neck. A little extra white icing fixed it up nicely though.
“Hell to hang out with a bunch of hot girls in short skirts? You sure you're bi? Because that's a pretty gay thing to say.” Ranger pulls another tray of cupcakes from the oven as Ross gives him a dirty look. Usually he's simpering around the boys and worshipping at their feet. “What?” Ranger asks, giving him a look right back. “I didn't say it was bad, just that it was super gay. What red-blooded dude doesn't want to hang out with a bunch of sex hungry girls?”
“Sex hungry, please,” I scoff, getting this weird little knot in my belly that I can't explain. It tastes like jealousy. Which, apparently, tastes like currants and orange zest because that's what I'm getting on the back of my tongue. Maybe it was the cupcake I snuck in the corner though? “Like they're throwing themselves at you guys? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
“So many hookups happen at that party,” Spencer says, leaning against the wall with his shirt undone, tie loose and hanging. He's covered in chocolate, too, thumbprints showing exactly where he's reached down to unconsciously straighten his tie.
He moves over to the door, peers out, and then closes and locks it so he and Ranger can sneak cigarettes by the window.
“It's practically a bacchanalian affair,” Church says, sitting next to a row of perfect mocha-chocolate cupcakes with chocolate covered coffee beans perched on the top. He's also sipping a white chocolate mocha that Ranger made him. “Bring extra condoms for your micropenis, Carson.”
“Do they even make them in extra-extra small?” the twins ask, exchanging a look and a snicker. I ignore them and use the little tweezer things that Ranger gave me to place a fondant and sparkle sugar flower on the top of my cupcake.
“Hilarious.” I roll my eyes as Ranger comes to stand beside me, the heat of his body jumping the space between us and making me feel nervous. I just put over a dozen little flowers on cupcakes with no