Chapter 9 #3
Is it just me or is it sweltering in here???
I bite my lip, fluttering my lashes at him. And while he doesn’t react externally, either his black eyes are a mirror, or someone’s an itsy bit enamored by what he sees.
Okay, enamored might be a bit of a stretch. I might be, like, clinically delusional, as we’ve already established. But I’m not totally lacking in the self-awareness department. Otherwise I never would’ve made it this long before shooting my shot with him.
(Observing him from a calculated distance for research purposes doesn’t count.)
It’s been no easy feat, waiting and hoping for him to come to me—patience isn’t exactly a virtue of mine, you see. But I can understand why he might be a little reluctant to welcome me back into his life, given how we left things, how long it’s been, et cetera, et cetera…
So, I did the nice, mature thing and gave him a chance to come to terms with it all on his own.
Or, at least, give me some kind of sign that he’s not as unaffected by my presence as he pretends.
Vale’s gaze flicks down, pulling me from my thoughts, and reminding me what prompted me to turn back and make a scene in the first place.
I glance down at my outfit, seeing it from his eyes. It shouldn’t stand out as anything special, in theory, because uniforms. But what can I say? I took some creative liberties.
Where the brown Oxfords are standard, same as the tan chinos…
The socks peeking out from the rolled up hems…not so much.
But what’s fun about fun socks if you can’t even see them? These ones in particular I’m quite fond of. They’re mid-calf, orange, and with little pink hearts on them. Representing two of my most favorite days of the year, one of which being Halloween, which is just a few weeks away.
Moving up from there, it’s, again, same as what all the other dudes are wearing: navy blazer with the burgundy and silver Grady Prep insignia on the breast, a tucked, crisp white button-down, and a burgundy and silver striped tie.
I finger the tasseled ends of the cashmere scarf draped loosely around my neck—orange to match my socks, with little gold beads. I’d stolen it—I mean, borrowed—from Granny Gertie’s collection.
Okay, so the fit might be a little…loud.
A little clashy. But, yeah, see, this whole uniform thing?
It stopped being cute after the third day, when I realized once again, my individuality was being stifled by an institution.
So, in the time since, I’ve done what I can to spice it up without totally violating the rules.
Rules, rules, rules.
I swear I’ve only traded one prison for another by coming to this place. Difference is, here, I can more easily find a way to bend the rules. And that makes it fun.
No more tush needles or padded rooms for me.
A throat clears. Whispers follow.
Oh, right, I’m supposed to be making a scene.
Where were we…
“I’ll have you know, Seth,” I say sweetly, “I did look in a mirror. Several actually. Throughout the day. The real question is, did you?” I wave my lollipop at the gelled… thing on his head. “When you decided that hairstyle looked good.”
Someone nearby whistles low. “Ooh, burn.”
I tip my head in the general direction of where it came from, and curtsy. “Thank you.”
Seth’s coloring deepens into a worrying shade of maroon.
Behind him, with his gaze locked on mine, Vale’s lips move as he mutters something under his breath.
Try as I might, I can’t make out what he’s saying.
But it’s clearly meant for the leech at his side, because whatever it is he says has Seth closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
And that?
That pisses me off.
My smile twitches, edging into something dangerous.
Menacing and feral. A retort claws its way up my throat—something very witty and not at all stupid, something that will surely get me into a heap of trouble…
If not with my team of wardens, who’ve probably got bets going around about how long I’ll last before sabotaging everything, then with Vale certainly.
Oh, how easy I could fuck everything up for him…
Everything he’s built here. This life he’s carefully curated for himself, where he’s not some malnourished mute kid following his foster brother around like a lost puppy, but some big shot football star.
One who’s got everyone fooled by his wooden smiles and uncanny ability to know just what to say and do to steer conversations where he wants them.
If I thought Vale was a bit…odd at times when we were kids…quiet and observant in an eerily apathetic way. It’s got nothing on the version I’ve come to know these last couple weeks. He’s like some kind of chameleonic android, able to slip through social situations like melted butter.
One moment, he’ll be this quiet unobtrusive force content to blend into the background, content to observe, nodding when expected, cracking the smallest smile if he’s so inclined to humor whoever it is he’s decided is worth his time to entertain.
And the next, he’ll be taking full command of the situation. Without any effort whatsoever. All it takes is a word. A gesture. A subtle shift in energy. And everyone around him just…falls back. Submits.
Like now, when a voice rings out, “What’s going on out here?
”—effectively shutting me up before I can ruin everything—and, faster than I can blink, Vale’s got his mask back in place as he turns toward Headmaster Locke.
Flanked at the headmaster’s sides are Walter and some female faculty member I don’t know.
“Nothing, sir.” Vale says this pleasantly enough, but there’s no missing the quiet underlying authority that leaves no room for doubt, when he adds, “Just settling a small misunderstanding.”
I blink as students around us disperse instantly, returning to whatever it is they were doing moments ago, as his words held some secret, subliminal command.
What the hell? Did I zone out and miss something?
It’s as if nothing happened. And either I’m fucking crazy—er, crazier than I already am—or the air is thinner, noises louder, sights brighter… It’s as if time stood still, and now, with some freaky telepathic command, Vale’s managed to get it to rewind and reset.
It’s fascinating. Intriguing.
Does he even realize the power he wields?
Something tells me he does. And fuck if I don’t want to pet his hair and feed him grapes while he confides in me all his secrets.
“Aston.”
I glance at Walter. Something tells me that’s not the first time he tried getting my attention. Behind him, Eden shuffles awkwardly, sending shooting glances between Vale and me. “Um, yeah, what he said.”
Walter frowns. “Who?”
“Huh?”
Muttering under his breath, he shakes his head, glancing away. Okay, so that time, I definitely zoned out. “Come on,” he says. “We’re leaving.”
With him gone, I find Eden watching me warily, and I feel my cheeks heat. I bug my eyes at him and mouth, What? To which he scowls, rolls his eyes like the teenage diva he is, and turns to follow dutifully after his dad.
I chance one last look back, half-expecting Vale and his group of loyal followers to no longer be standing there. But an empty spot isn’t what I find, and I can’t say it’s much better.
His friends are gone, but he and Seth are still there. No longer facing my direction, Seth’s now all up in Vale’s space, arms looped around his neck. Something in me deflates at the sight of a pair of large veiny hands splayed loosely across the small of his back.
Throat thick, I lift my gaze to find Vale staring me down over where Seth’s got his head buried in his nape.
Flutters erupt in my belly, batting away the icky feeling that was there only a split-second ago.
Because until today, until this whole thing, I was lucky if I even got a single passing glance from him all day.
It was as if our little moment in the cornfields never happened. As if it meant nothing to him. As if my return to his life meant nothing…
He remembers me. I know he does.
It doesn’t help that we don’t share any classes.
His locker’s a whole hallway away from mine, lumped with the rest of the football team.
So other than lunch, surrounded by his fellow jocks and that horrible growth currently nuzzling his neck, probably crying because I insulted his hair, we might as well exist on two different planes.
Not right now though. Right now, we’re not only sharing the same plane, we’re the only ones here.
I feel my lip twitch with the beginnings of a rueful smile. My gaze growing molten with satisfaction. And still, he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t pretend that he doesn’t notice me.
Finally.
I mean I knew I’d get it eventually—a sign. A signal.
Poke and prod, and little mice will always reveal themselves, no matter how hard they try to scurry by unnoticed. They always do. They can’t help themselves. They’re too nosy, too reckless, too tempted by danger.
His dark gaze reveals nothing, but that’s okay. The weight of his prolonged attention, unsettling as it might be—the dude doesn’t even blink—is enough for me.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I chomp down on what’s left of my candy and toss the stick on the ground between us before turning on my heel with a flourish and sauntering confidently after Eden and Walter. Blowing through the doors to outside and disappearing into the glaring afternoon light.
Tick-tock, little mouse.
Your time’s just about up.