"You and I have something we must discuss, I'm afraid," He interrupted me smoothly, and smiled with all his eye wrinkles. "It's about your scholarship."
"Oh. R-Right." My throat-heart started tapdancing queasily. This was it, wasn't it? He was going to open his mouth and tell me my scholarship was revoked. "Please, if there's anything I can do to keep it –”
To my surprise, Mr. Blackthorn chuckled.
"Ah, so you're aware of exactly how much my son dislikes you. You've thought this would happen for some time already. Excellent. That proves you're much cleverer than I thought."
I looked up, bewildered. "I don't understand."
"In that case, would you be so kind as to meet me at Ciao Bella this evening?"
The fanciest Italian restaurant this side of the city.
"I'm not sure I should -"
"I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position, Miss Cruz. I had simply hoped to talk with you in a place where neither of our families could be privy to the conversation."
His words were heavy and slow, like they had a double meaning to them. I frowned, but Mr. Blackthorn kept going.
"I'm offering you a way in which you can save your scholarship, Miss Cruz."
I felt stupid for blushing, but I did anyway. "Look, Mr. Blackthorn, I don't think this is appropriate -"
He laughed, this time, full-bodied and loudly. "Oh, dear. You're right. I would be quite the terrific scumbag if that was what I wanted, wouldn't I? But no. I'm quite happily widowed, thank you. My interests are in your position, Miss Cruz, within this school. I believe there is something you can do for me that I would much appreciate."
He must've seen how confused I was, because he smiled.
"Simply meet me at Ciao Bella at seven tonight. Ask for Blackthorn. We will discuss the finer points then. I look forward to it."
He didn't wait for me to confirm, or deny. He simply rolled his tinted window up, and the limo drove away. And that's how I knew he was a Blackthorn for real - because he left without explaining anything at all.
Chapter 4
WOLF
There’s a girl waiting for me by my bike in the parking lot after school.
But that’s nothing new. Girls have always, for some reason or another, liked to wait around by my bike. I’d learned to live with it, the way you live with mosquitos. Living with it isn’t the problem. The problem is lately, it’s gotten a lot worse.
The stupid ones sit on the bike like they own it. The smart ones just stand by it, admiring it.
Today, it’s the former.
She’s a junior in my Calculus class – Miranda? Minnie? Something forgettable with an M. She sits on the seat of my bike languidly stretched out, like it’s a bed. Her hair is dyed red and curled with almost as much agonizing precision as her eyeliner, and she wears her navy uniform skirt as high up on her waist as she can manage without getting looks from the faculty. She waves at me as she sees me walk over. I give her two seconds to figure out my glare means she needs to move. She doesn’t.
“Hey, Wolf.” She smiles. “What’re you up to?”
She – like everyone else in the school – knows I don’t like people who touch my bike without my permission. And yet she’s doing it. I’m still unclear about what these women think being near or on my bike will get them. My attention? Perhaps. Though why they’d want the attention of a short-tempered asshole like me, I have no idea. This girl has decided to skip respect and move straight to goading me for attention. And she’ll get it. Just not in the way she wants.
“Move,” I request. The girl winks and strokes the handlebars.
“Oh, come on, Wolf. We’ve been in the same class forever. The least you could do is give me a ‘hello’, or a ‘hi, beautiful’.”
“Why would I do that?” I drone.
“To be polite, maybe.” She inspects her nails.
“I don’t do polite.”
Her laugh is nice, even if her entire personality isn’t. “That’s why I like you. So I guess it’s fine. For now.”
“Move,” I repeat, my words hard and biting. “Or I’ll punish you myself.”
She blushes. “Well, if you insist!”
I knead the space between my brows. She’s starting to give me a headache. If I was Burn, or Fitz, I could easily move her to the side with little damage on either of our parts, but that’s not an option for me. It never has been. My words and eyes alone have to burn her so badly she wants to move. I’d perfected burning people to an artform to survive. But it’s just not happening, today.
A muffled crashing noise makes us both look to where a girl desperately scoops up several fallen textbooks from the ground. A girl who happened to chew me out, this morning. Beatrix Cruz.
“Oh god, not her,” Miranda groans. “I was so pissed off at her for what she said to you, Wolf. I’m seriously going to fight her.”
“Touching,” I drawl. “But I don’t need you to defend me.”
“She’s so full of herself!” Miranda points at Beatrix. “Just look at her!”
I do. Beatrix cradles the textbooks in her arms gingerly as she makes her way to her dusty, accident-scarred car. The way she walks is always a little unsure, but determined. The wind plays with her hair, some of it stuck in the corner of her cold-flushed lips. The uniform suits her in a way it rarely does girls – it makes her look younger than her world-weary eyes betray. It’s easier to overlook the heaviness she carries in her shoulders when they’re covered in a stiff navy blue blazer. At the right angles, when she’s caught up in some textbook or another and smiling at something she read, she almost looks like the carefree teenager she’s supposed to be.
The enchantment of the moment is lost when Eric walks up, offering to help her carry her books. My skin heats. She has no idea what he’s done – and so she lets him help, their hands touching, her smile completely unaware of the evil that lurks beneath his.
“That’s so hilarious,” Miranda laughs. “If she seriously starts to hang out with Eric, and he tries to do what he did again –”
“Move, now,” My voice feels like acid in my throat, and Miranda jumps up.