Dutch is the only one sitting in the music room when I stumble into class on Monday. I stop short, my heart slamming against my ribs at the sight of him.
He barely looks over at me, but I notice the tense set of his shoulders and the determination in his full lips. His long legs stretch out in front of him, and a guitar is balanced on his lap.
He’s wearing navy pants along with a short-sleeved T-shirt that shows off all his muscles and ink. The Redwood Prep jacket that’ll complete the uniform is swung casually over the back of his chair.
My hands are shaking.
But it’s not from fear.
Ever since he made that stupid challenge about sleeping with me, I’ve been on edge. Like I can’t trust him—or my own body—anymore.
It’s made it difficult to sleep. Even my dreams are plagued by his ruthlessly gorgeous face.
Some of those dreams are of Dutch grabbing me in the shadows.
Others are of me straddling his lap, giving him exactly what he always wanted and liking it…
I’m freaking insane. To want him? To desire him after everything he’s done to me.
It would be better to drop out of school than give up my virginity to Dutch.
And yet, the only thing I know is that I can’t leave Redwood Prep. Not if I want to give Vi a better life.
As long as I’m breathing, I have to stay. I have to make it through.
Dutch plays a light, sultry melody on the guitar and my muscles pull taut.
I came to class late today, hoping to avoid him. If it wouldn’t put my scholarship in jeopardy, I’d drop all the classes that he attended too.
He’s taking over my life, making me cower. Making me sweat. I clawed my way into the darkness, trying to shore up all the power I had to stand toe-to-toe with him and yet he has me by the neck again.
Can you take the risk that he won’t get what he wants?
The answer to that shames me.
My sneakers skate against the ground as I take a step back.
Still not looking at me, Dutch rumbles, “If you run, I will come after you and I’ll make what I’m about to do next ten times worse.”
“What the hell do you want?” The words scrape my throat, like fingers of fire burning their way up my chest.
I hate Dutch for making me feel so trapped.
For making me feel so alive.
Because even if there’s disdain, just being in the same room with him charges up something that was lifeless inside me. Something that makes my plain, tiring existence feel new.
“Come here, Brahms.” He strums a complex chord, his blond hair catching the sunlight and making it glint like spun gold. Dutch just barely glances over at me, his amber eyes frosty. “Now.”
My mouth tightens. I hate being ordered around. Especially by him.
His lips curl up cruelly. The music he was playing stops in one short motion.
“You left something at the party.” He juts his chin down.
I glance at the bundle under Dutch’s boot and blanch.
It’s the jacket I wore at my last gig. Rolled up within the folds is my red wig.
The truth hits me right between the eyes.
He’s holding my secret ransom.
I glance up. Our eyes lock, my brown ones on his volatile honey-brown irises. He says nothing, but like a predator on the hunt, his stillness is a mirage. He only stalks when the prey is near, caught in his trap. Not a second before then.
The sun is high in the sky, golden rays blasting through the windows. But I still shiver.
Dutch’s eyes follow me as I squeeze between the desks and toss my backpack on the ground.
“Our next Unconventional Music Theory project is due.” He arches a brow at me. “We’re partners.”
“I’m switching.”
“To who?”
The warning expression on his face is like a punch to the gut, but I absorb the threat in it and keep my chin up.
There’s only one person in this school who would dare to stand up to Dutch and live.
“Sol.”
“Go ahead.” He leans back casually. “If you want everyone to know who you really are.” He moves my jacket around with his foot. “Be my guest.” The words roll off his tongue, poisonous and graceful as a snake.
“What do you want, Dutch?”
“I already told you what I wanted, Brahms.” His eyes flash. “Come here.”
Moving forward although everything inside me is telling me to run, I stop in front of him. He places a hand on my hip and jerks me forward. I stare heatedly down into his eyes, mesmerized by his total lack of humanity.
Why does he hate me so much? Why can’t he just leave me alone?
Dutch places his other hand on my hip and holds me steady. The guitar on his lap slips down and it’s only my knees that are pinned against his keeping the expensive instrument from falling to the ground.
He studies me with a much softer, more intimate gaze than I thought he was capable of.
“Relax, Brahms.” His left hand rubs a circle against my hip. “I already told you that I’m not going to take it. Not by force.”
My lips and tongue start tingling as his gaze drops to my mouth.
“You must be high or stupid if there’s a part of you that genuinely believes I want you, Dutch,” I spit.
He laughs at me. Dark and rolling. His laughter is more insulting than anything he could have said.
I boil with anger. The jagged parts of me that live to see him bleed rise to the surface. Rather than back away, I lean forward. “My body belongs to me. I can do what I want with it. With whomever I want. It doesn’t have to be you.”
Desire passes through his eyes when I come closer. It charges the air between us. That thin line between hate and lust disappearing, getting buried under a rolling fog.
“It is going to be me,” he says self-assuredly.
“I’d die first,” I whisper, arching my chest over his.
Dutch grabs my chin. His fingers are tight but not painful. His frown is colder than any I’ve seen. “Lesson number three, Brahms. Your body belongs to me. Your first time belongs to me too. I will end anyone who gets between me and what’s mine.”
I try to jerk back, but he holds me steady.
His eyes are hard marbles, but when they roam down my chest, they sizzle with heat. “You are going to moan beneath me.” The gravity running through his promise makes my body tighten.
I’m playing a dangerous game here, but I don’t care if I lose. As long as Dutch does too, I’ll let the fire burn me to a crisp.
“Care to bet on it?”
His lips curl up. It’s like he’s already seen that I’ll end up in his bed and so there’s no need for further discussion. “No. I already know I’ve won. And there’s nothing you could give me outside of the obvious.” He arches a brow.
Freaking arrogant little bastard.
“Why don’t you just shut up so we can start our project?” I grind out.
Dutch smirks and releases my chin. “Hold this.”
I gasp in surprise when he shoves the guitar at me.
“You know how to play, right?” he asks.
“Barely,” I mutter.
His long fingers curl around mine and set my hands in position. “C chord.” He moves one of my fingers down. “G chord.”
“What are you doing?”
“Play it back.”
“I’m not going to—”
His fingers curve around my neck and hold me there. His mouth drops just above my lips, making his intentions known.
“We could spend this class doing something more enjoyable, Brahms. Your pick.”
I pull my lips into my mouth even as my traitorous body begs for his kiss. “Which was the G chord again?”
His lips twitch, but he steps back and shows me—without touching me this time.
I catch on pretty quickly.
“Okay.” Dutch grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?”
But he doesn’t answer. In typical Dutch fashion, the prince of Redwood answers to no one.
He drags me to the cafeteria where the ladies are bustling around, already preparing for lunch.
“Dutch!”
“Hi, Dutch!”
“Dutchie!”
All the ladies brighten when he gets near.
“You’re here to play for us again?”
Dutch smiles, no hint of the dangerous villain in sight. “Not today. It’s Cadey’s turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“You’re going to play while they work,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.
“You’re insane.” I hold the guitar away from me like it’s a live fish.
“You’re wasting their time.” He jerks his chin pointedly at the guitar.
I glare at him, wishing I could take the guitar and bash him over the head with it. But Dutch is smart. He brought witnesses. Cute, lunch lady witnesses who are watching us as if we’re a couple straight out of their favorite TV soap opera.
Dutch kicks a short stepping stool at me. I have no idea where he got it from, but I get the sense that it’s always been there. Something only he and the lunch ladies know.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I set one foot on the stepping stool and balance the guitar on my knee. My fingers are trembling so hard that I can’t even pin them on the strings.
I can’t do it. I can’t…
Dutch slides in front of me, his body heat pulling me out of my thoughts. “Strum the chord, Cadey.”
“No, I…” I lick my lips frantically. The cafeteria ladies are watching me like I’m insane. “Not as me. I can’t do it as me. If I had my wig—”
“You don’t need the damn wig.” His fingers wrap around my wrist. “You did it with a triangle in front of a bunch of high school freshmen.”
“But that was—”
“Different? No, it’s not. Not in the ways that matter. This is a guitar, not a piano. And there are only a couple ladies behind the counter.” He tilts my chin up. His voice is softer this time. “And I’m here.”
The way he’s standing over me, full of calm confidence and determination, like he owns the whole world and what he doesn’t have, he can take—it makes me angry. And it also makes me feel safe.
Dutch Cross is a maniac with his sights set on me, but do I fear him more than I fear the stage?
I don’t know any more.
I only know that he has a point.
It’s not a piano and maybe I have a chance at taking control of that fear. I might as well use the opportunity.
Dutch steps back while I run my fingers over the tight guitar strings. The song is an absolute mess. I don’t remember where to place my fingers and I only know two chords anyway.
But Dutch nods proudly.
The cafeteria ladies stop to applaud for me.
Warmth fills my chest, spreading out to the tips of my fingers and toes. I turn to look at Dutch, but my eyes catch on someone in the doorway of the cafeteria.
It’s Miller. And he has a giant frown on his face.
My internal alarm goes off.
“Miss Cooper,” Christa’s dad gestures with two fingers, “I need to see you in the principal’s office. Now.”
Jinx: Cinderella and Prince Charming Charm The Cafeteria Ladies
With all the sex, blood and betrayal lurking within Redwood Prep’s precious halls, it’s always nice to take a little moment and appreciate the sweeter things in life.
Like our resident will-they-won’t-they couple who serenaded the lunch ladies today, warming us all up with their stolen glances and their flirty little smiles. Has anyone ever seen the stony Prince Charming so proud?
But be careful. In Redwood, happiness is fleeting and monsters are always lurking, waiting for just the right moment to strike.
Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.
– Jinx
