I check my watch, slide my hand into my pocket and nod to the door. “Get out.”
Footsteps patter as everyone in detention hurries out of sight.
I check my watch again.
She should be here any minute.
I sink into a chair at the back of the room and keep my eyes on the door. It’s the end of the day. I’m wearing khaki-colored trousers and a button-down shirt with the Redwood Prep logo on the pocket, but I might as well not have bothered. When I came back to school fully dressed, people were staring at me is if I were still in my speedo.
I don’t think Zane, with all his antics, managed to stir up Redwood Prep like that before.
The door creaks open.
The air turns charged as Cadence sticks her head in. Dark-chocolate hair spills down her left shoulder.
She glances around in confusion. “Where is everyone?”
“It’s just us.”
“Really?” Her nose scrunches. “I thought I heard someone else getting detention today.”
I fold my arms over my chest and kick the desk next to mine in a silent instruction to sit there.
Cadence primly ignores my command and takes a seat in the front row.
Stubborn as hell. As always.
“My clothes magically turned up in my locker when I came back to school,” I yell at her back. “Kind of late to have a change of heart.”
“Maybe whoever did it got scarred by the sight of you and never wanted to see you naked again,” she answers brusquely.
I smirk. “Or maybe they liked what they saw.”
She snorts as if that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. But I saw her checking me out in the hallway today. She’s attracted to me, probably just as much as she hates me.
I get out of my chair, walk to the front of the room and lean against the teacher’s desk. Brahms pretends not to notice. Studiously focusing on her textbook, she turns a page.
My eyes devour her face—fragile cheekbones, lips as ripe as strawberries, long, delicate limbs. I cross my arms over my chest. “Is that why you can only perform in disguise? Because you’re afraid of the piano?”
“I’m not afraid of the piano,” she bites out.
“That’s not how it looked this morning.”
“This morning never happened.” She whips her head up. “Isn’t that what you meant when you said what you said?”
I flinch.
She glances down again, angrily yanking her textbook to a new page.
My phone rings.
It’s Finn. “Enjoying detention?”
I glance at Cadence. “The company could be better.”
She stiffens.
“I’m calling to let you know that the guys at the shop said they could probably do a deep clean of the truck. Get it back to shape. I’ll swing by after school to pick you up so you can check it out.”
“Thanks.”
“And Dutch.”
“What?”
“Don’t screw this up,” Finn warns.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say lightly.
“Yeah, you don’t.” He hangs up.
I pocket my phone and tap my fingers on the desk.
Cadence shoots me an annoyed glance. “Would you stop that? It’s distracting.”
“Come on, Brahms. You’re not just, a little excited to be alone with me?”
“Not even a little.”
I grab her chair, yank it forward, and lock my feet around it.
She shrieks.
“What about now?” My eyes dip to her lips. “Better?”
“You narcissistic ego-maniac!”
“Call me what you want, Brahms. You like these little games or you wouldn’t have gotten so good at playing them.”
She glares at me. “What kind of sick, cruel person thinks torturing someone is a game?”
“How about you answer my question?”
“How about you mind your own business?”
I get up, grab each end of her desk and whisper against her ear, “Fine. Then at least tell me if that guy at the diner was really your boyfriend. And if he is, does he know how much you like my hands up your—”
She slaps her textbook closed. Her eyes spit furious sparks. “Get the hell away from me.”
I arch a brow.
“I have a strike on my record now thanks to you. Plus I’ll be late for work duty and that means I won’t get to my shift on time. Frankie’s going to chew me up and spit me out.” She tilts her chin up. “Whether Hunter’s my real boyfriend or not has nothing to do with you. Whatever new trick you’re playing by acting all interested in me, you can shove it.”
A low, dark laugh rumbles in my chest. For some reason, looking at her shaking and angry fills my body with this strange energy surge. It’s like someone just dropped a plugged-in toaster into my bathtub. I’m frying like fish in a skillet and its glorious.
“You’re not dating him.”
“That’s what you got from what I just said?”
“You could have said yes. You’re screwing him. You like him. Whatever. But you didn’t.” I plant a hand on her desk and toss her a confident smirk. “You don’t even think about him when you’re with me.”
She scoffs. “Did you come out of the womb this self-absorbed or was it recent?”
I lean closer, my eyes on her lips. “I was born like this.”
Her eyes flick to my mouth too.
I ease back before I kiss her, noting the disappointment that skates through her eyes. She’s skilled at acting like she hates me, but I’ve got evidence that her body sure doesn’t.
I could take advantage of that, but what she said in the theatre, about me not hurting her because she’s Redhead, sunk deep into my brain. I think there’s some truth to that.
If it was only revenge I wanted, I would have crushed her by now. But something keeps stopping me. There’s a sharp craving underlining my need for her destruction. It pokes its head out whenever she gets vulnerable. It makes me want to protect her instead of torture her.
Those conflicting needs—to possess and to destroy, to protect and to devour—they pull against each other. It’s all levels of confusing.
I fall back into my chair. The magnetic attraction I feel for Brahms is getting a little harder to control. I need the distance.
“It took guts to get Christa arrested. It took a serious level of dedication to move trash into my car. And stealing my clothes? Gutsy. But what I don’t get is how you got my father involved. That’s above your pay grade.”
“I have connections too.”
I scowl. Dad wouldn’t have just let her waltz back into Redwood Prep without having a plan. Something feels off.
Cadence’s fingers dig into the desk. “Since this is an interrogation—”
“Who said it was?”
“You think I don’t have questions too?”
I shrug and gesture have at it.
“Why did you want me out of school last month? Is it because of Sol? Is there something… wrong with him? Does it have anything to do with why he missed the beginning of school?”
I stiffen when I see the genuine interest in her eyes. There’s more behind that question. She’s not just asking for herself but because she actually wants to learn more about Sol.
I’m annoyed for reasons that I can’t really explain.
It breaks the spell of my excitement. Some part of me was actually looking forward to spending time alone in detention with her.
“Why are you so interested in Sol?”
“Because he’s actually nice to me.”
I roll my eyes. “High standards.”
“So what? I should, naturally, be more into someone who treats me like crap?” Her eyebrows hike.
I’m wise enough not to answer that directly. “He’s none of your concern. Stay away from him.”
“You’ve said that already,” she points out. “But just because you tell me to do something doesn’t mean I have to listen.”
The glare I unleash on her is sharp. “I don’t want you thinking about any other guy.”
“So you want to control my thoughts now?” She scoffs.
I scowl in response. I hate that I’m affected by her. Hate that she has a small measure of influence on me. Whether its because of my lingering feelings for Redhead or whether it’s pure animal lust, she makes me weak.
And now that I realize it, it scares the hell out of me.
Rising abruptly, I grab my bag.
Cadence scrambles up too. “Where are you going? We’re supposed to be in detention for an hour.”
“Harris isn’t going to record this. Don’t worry about your record.” I squeeze the strap of my bag.
Forget the guitar ban. I need to shred.
I can feel Cadence’s stunned look boring into my back.
Turning, I face her. “Are you still in touch with my dad?”
“No.” She blinks. “We barely even talked that day outside the auditorium. He helped me out because of Mr. Mulliez. I doubt he even remembers my name.”
“Good. Stay away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because if you think I’m bad, he’s even worse.” My gaze darkens. “You don’t want to owe my father any favors.”
