I sit in the middle of the lavish living room, noticing the pictures of Cadence and Dutch together, as well as pictures of Dutch and all his brothers.
The frames sit neatly over the mantle, a tiny window into the world of the dazzling Cross brothers and their unshakeable bond.
Viola sees where my eyes have landed. “Cadey put those up. There was not even one picture in this entire house when the boys were living here.”
Curious, I snoop around. There’s a photograph of Zane, Dutch, Finn and Sol at a beach. The boys have sunny expressions on their faces. It’s hard to imagine that they were once so young and innocent. Sometimes, it feels like they came out of the womb dangerous, scowling and inked.
I pick up another frame. This one is of The Kings during a concert. Pink and yellow lights beam on the stage, drowning them all in an otherworldly glow. Dutch has his head bent toward his guitar. Finn has his head tilted back as if he’s seeing another world. Zane is the only one whose gaze is on the camera. He’s drenched in sweat, hair falling over glittering eyes, a devilishly enticing grin on his face.
“Is it true that all the teachers at Redwood are scared of The Kings?”
“Huh?” I whip my eyes up to her curious and excited brown ones. Viola is practically leaning into my face, scanning me.
“And is it true that everyone runs and hides when The Kings pass by?”
“Um…”
“And is it true that girls are so crazy about Zane that they stuff his locker with bras?”
My eyes widen. I ignore the strike of jealousy that hits me. “I don’t know much about Zane.”
Viola pushes her lips out at the picture where I was, very obviously, staring at the drummer. “Then why were you looking at him like that?”
I swallow hard and put the frame back.
Undeterred, Viola follows me. “Do you know about Jinx? Is the school trying to find out who she is?”
“I think a lot of people want to know who Jinx is.”
Viola laughs. “Honestly, I think all the boys want to know her real identity. Especially Finn. He has a crush on her without even knowing what she looks like. Isn’t that funny?”
“Mm-hm.”
“By the way, do you know who Sexy Teach could be? Like… who’s the sexiest female teacher at Redwood?”
I start fidgeting with the ring around my finger. No wonder Zane is always flipping his drumsticks. I need something to keep my hands steady. “I-I really don’t know.”
Her gaze turns a little more intense and she studies me again. “How old are you, Miss Jamieson?”
“Uh…”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Well…”
Suddenly, her eyes widen. “Oh my go—are you ‘Sexy Teach’?”
Horror tears through my veins.
Viola looks me over. “You’re her, right? The one Jinx has been writing about. The girl Snare King is obsessed with.”
It feels so crass hearing this thirteen year old who’s never been to Redwood discussing the highly toxic and extremely dangerous situation I’ve been caught in like it’s the latest plot twist in a Disney Channel show.
Popping to my feet, I smile shakily. “Is it okay if I look around the house?”
“Sure. I can give you a tour and you can tell me all about how you and Zane met.”
“How about you show me what Zane’s taught you on the drums?”
Her expression falls. “I’m really not that good.”
“It’s okay. However you play, you’ll be better than me.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when she drops the subject of Jinx and ‘Sexy Teach’. That stupid moniker. Could the secrets trader not have been more creative?
Viola leads me to a separate garage—it’s insane that rich people need two garages in the first place—and climbs behind a shiny drum set. She looks so slim and frail behind those giant instruments. I almost want to scoop her out of there and rescue her.
“Um…” She beats one of the drums nervously. “He taught me a song, but I forgot.”
“Someone hasn’t been practicing.” Zane’s deep voice curls around us. I whirl around and spot him watching me, tatted arms folded over his chest.
He looks freshly showered. The blood-stained hoodie is gone. So are the blood spatters on his knuckles. The black undershirt he’s wearing exposes all the ink on his arms. Grey sweatpants hug his muscular legs and hang low over his hips. The gold chain dangling from his neck makes the edges of my fingers tingle.
Viola shoots to her feet. “I practiced. I swear.”
“Go ahead then. Play,” Zane challenges.
“Just… give me a minute.”
While Viola flits around, I glance at Zane.
Our eyes meet and linger.
Even his gaze is dangerous. He refuses to let me breathe.
There’s a half-hearted tap behind me and then a noisy crash of the cymbals. I look over my shoulder and notice Viola’s confused expression.
“Uh… I just remembered I have homework. Gotta go,” Viola squeaks. In a flash, she darts from behind the drums and disappears.
Zane smirks and moves deeper into the room. Every step feels like a threat and it’s extremely difficult to hold my ground. The way he walks, the way he carries himself like he owns the world, it used to irritate me. But after seeing him slam Hall into next year, I’m not as irritated as I used to be.
Zane’s lips curl up. “Like what you see?”
I glance away. “You shower fast.”
“I’ll go slow if you’re in there with me.”
I ignore the sweeping pleasure that lights up my brain. “Viola’s not having fun.”
“Learning an instrument isn’t about fun. It’s about discipline.”
“You shouldn’t pressure kids to learn music. You should inspire her to learn.”
“Are you schooling me on how to be a teacher?”
“Just some advice.”
He gives me a wink and a smile. “My turn.”
“To do what?”
He picks up the sticks and holds it out to me. “To teach you something.”
I squint at the sticks. I’ve always wanted to learn an instrument, but I don’t know if it’s worth learning from him.
“Scared?” He goads me.
I scoff and snap the sticks from his hands. “I’m a quick learner. Don’t be surprised if I play better than you.”
“I like the confidence.” His voice is a purr in my ear as I get situated on the drum stool.
Goosebumps skitter up my arm and it gets ridiculously hot.
“What do I start with first?”
“Pull your skirt up.”
“W-what?”
“Your legs need movement.” His fingers hook underneath my pencil skirt. The pads of his thumb graze my skin and set a wildfire inside me.
Slowly, he inches my skirt up, and I do my best not to moan when his knuckles brush my inner thigh. A burning ache lights up my belly, electricity whipping through me like a torrent.
Zane’s eyes blaze into mine, an arresting shade of blue.
“Enough,” I choke out, grabbing his wrist to stop him. I feel too exposed, too vulnerable in this heated moment.
His full lips twist in a cruel smirk.
“Are you teaching me a lesson or not?” I snap.
“Of course.” He withdraws.
I let out a quick exhale.
“Ignore all these,” he gestures to the smaller drums, “and focus on the basics. He juts a finger down. “The pedal by your foot is the bass drum. Press on the pedal and it pounds the bass.”
I ease my foot on the mechanics and hear the satisfying thump.
“Good girl.” His fingers sweep over my shoulder as he points to my left hand. “This is for the snare.”
He leans over me, his inked arm brushing my side. He smells like fresh leather and sandalwood. My eyes dart in his direction and I find him watching me carefully, probably waiting for me to nod my understanding.
“What’s next?” I demand.
He chuckles. “You think it’s that easy?”
“If you can do it…” I let the rest of the insult dangle.
He laughs again and there’s an edge to it this time. “Have it your way.”
My heart thumps hard when he hugs me from behind. His chest presses against my back and sends a violent surge through my body. The zing of electricity between my legs almost has me levitating off the chair.
He grips my wrist, touching the same places Hall did earlier. And yet I have a completely different feeling when Zane holds me.
I want him to touch me more.
Harder.
In other places.
I shouldn’t be having such strong reactions, but my defences are down. It’s been such a long, rollercoaster of a day and I can’t find the strength to put my walls back up.
“This is the easiest drumbeat in the world,” he says. Guiding my hand over the snare twice, he murmurs, “Now the bass drum.”
I kick, the movement jolting me harder against him.
“Good. Again.” He guides me to pound the snare twice. “Bass.”
I slam on the pedal.
Heat travels through me when he slides his hand off my wrist, fingers skating over the inside of my arm before drifting away. “By yourself now.”
I tap the snare twice and kick.
Tap-tap. Boom.
Tap-tap. Boom.
Zane hums softly in my ear, his breath caressing me.
I stop abruptly. “We Will Rock You?”
“A classic.” When I turn to glare at him, I find a shimmer of dark satisfaction in his gaze. “Not bad for your first time.”
“I can do something more complicated.”
“Not so fast, tiger. You need to conquer the basics before you get your own drum solo.”
“I hope I’m not this irritating when I teach.”
“Irritating, no.” A teasing smile tugs at his lips. “Distracting? Yes.”
My heart skips a beat.
Zane holds my eyes and rakes his thumb roughly over the corner of my lips. Lust screams through me at the tiny touch. He pulls back his thumb and there’s a red streak on it. My lipstick must have smudged when Hall put his hand over my mouth.
The reminder of what happened tonight sends an icy shudder down my back.
“What are you going to do if Hall goes to the cops?” I whisper.
“Let him. I’d love an excuse to set my lawyers on his tail.”
“Lawyers?”
His grin turns cruel. “We’re Jarod Cross’s sons. You think we stay out of the press because they care that much about our privacy?”
The words rip through the tension.
Zane is right.
He’s not just a student at Redwood.
He’s the son of Jarod Cross, musical legend and media darling.
If any hint of our night together gets out, it’s not just Jinx and Redwood Prep that I have to worry about.
The entire world will shun me.
Feeling cold, I get up and set the drumsticks on the snare.
Zane straightens too and watches me.
“It’s been a long day. Thanks for the lesson,” I turn and meet his eyes, “but I think I should go home.”
