I THINK I HAVE A PROBLEM.
Pretty sure I’m falling in love with Crew Lancaster.
Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe it’s just a serious case of infatuation that’s perfectly natural, considering he’s the one who took my virginity. He’s very important to me. The one boy I can never, ever forget. The one who I will remember until I’m an old lady on my death bed, my memories running through my mind, filtered, altered. Broken.
Except for that one boy. The one who I had sex with for the first time.
The rest of Saturday night is a haze. After round two, where we both made sure we came, he cuddled me close as we dozed off. We slept in each other’s arms, and when I woke up Sunday morning, he was tucked up behind me, hard and poking me in the butt, his fingers between my legs, touching my sore, sensitive skin.
He still made me come, and I returned the favor before we took showers and got ready to leave. We had breakfast and couldn’t linger for long. The plane was ready to take us back to Lancaster Prep.
Back to reality.
 |
ONCE WE RETURNED TO CAMPUS, I went to my room, collapsing into bed and sleeping the afternoon away. I only woke up to my phone buzzing, the room already dark since it was after five.
It was my father, checking in on me and asking about my trip. I lied about the fine details and got him off the phone quickly, grabbing the cookie out of my duffel bag that I got at the bakery yesterday afternoon and devouring it before I fell back into bed.
Now it’s Monday morning and another school day is about to start. At least it’s a shortened day—all week we get out at twelve-thirty because of the finals’ schedule. Today is first and sixth period, so we get to kick it off with Figueroa.
God, I don’t want to face him, knowing what he’s done. Will he even be there, or did they already arrest him?
I take a shower and blow dry my hair. Get dressed in my uniform. Tie my hair back with the ribbon, remembering what Crew said. How he wants to tie my wrists together with it one day.
My skin goes hot at the possibility.
I slip on my boots and am about to put on my jewelry when I realize something.
Where is my ring?
I unpacked at one point last night and don’t remember pulling it out of my bag. I go to the bathroom and dig in my toiletries bag, but it’s not in there. I check my purse to see if I dropped it in a small pocket inside, but no.
It’s not there either.
I remember taking it off. Leaving it on the nightstand at the hotel. I don’t remember picking it up before we left.
Panic fills me, making it hard to breathe. My father is going to kill me. That ring is a family heirloom. It was his mother’s original engagement ring, and it has so much sentimental value attached to it. If I lost it…
I throw on my uniform jacket and my thick winter coat. Wind the scarf around my neck and don a hat before I’m leaving my dorm room and eventually exiting the building, a little earlier than usual.
I need to talk to Crew. Ask him if he remembers grabbing the ring for me. Anything is possible, right?
If he didn’t, I can call the hotel and ask if someone turned in a ring. There are still good people in this world who would turn in a lost item. I’m sure of it.
My steps are hurried as I run across the slick sidewalk. It rained for the better part of the weekend and some of the snow still remains, though now it’s slushy and dark with debris and dirt. Not fluffy and white like it is when it first falls. When it feels magical and wondrous.
No, now it’s just ugly. The air is cold and damp, the sky a dark, steely gray. There aren’t many people out this early, so it’s easy for me to make my way to the main building. When I see the entrance, no one is lingering in front of it, not even Crew’s friends. I trudge my way up the steps, going just inside and waiting by the door, so I can see his approach.
We texted briefly last night, but I could tell he was tired. I was too. Plus, I don’t want to come across as too clingy.
Oh my God, I sound like every other girl I know who’s had sex and then wants to play it cool. Like it’s no big deal. And the sex thing isn’t what’s bothering me today. No, it’s the fact that I lost my ring and I’m scared of my father’s reaction.
He’s going to be mad. I just know it.
Five minutes pass and there’s still no sign of Crew. I send him a text, asking where he’s at, but he doesn’t respond.
He’s driving me out of my mind with worry.
Finally, I spot him, walking with his friends toward the building, Crew standing in the middle. I walk outside, barely able to repress the smile that wants to appear when I note the way his gaze lights up when he first sees me.
How he tamps it down so his friends won’t notice.
Well. That’s disappointing. Though it’s originally what I wanted, so I can’t complain.
Chewing on my lower lip, I wait until he’s closer to say something. “Hi, Crew.” I glance over at his friends. “Ezra. Malcolm.”
They both nod and murmur their greetings, Crew watching me with the slightest frown.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask him. “Sure.”
“Privately?” I send a pointed look in Ezra and Malcolm’s direction. “Yeah, definitely.”
Crew lets me take his arm and we walk down the hall, hiding away in the abandoned classroom he dragged me into that one time, when he kissed me so ferociously. Like a jealous lover.
Once the door is shut, Crew is on me, his hands cradling my cheeks, his mouth landing on mine. He devours me like a starving man, consuming me completely.
I eventually push him away, needing a clear head, hating how he frowns, worry crossing his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I stand up straighter, my tone somber. “I lost something this weekend.” His smirk surprises me. “You sure did.”
My cheeks burn. “Stop.” “What did you lose?”
“My ring. The one my father gave me. He’s going to be so mad if it’s gone. It belonged to my grandmother. It was her engagement ring, and it’s really
special to him. That’s why he gave it to me,” I explain, my head starting to hurt.
I will never forgive myself if I lost it for good. “I know where it is,” Crew says, calm as ever.
Relief floods me, though not enough to ease the fresh headache. “Oh my God, really? Where is it? Can you give it to me?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I can’t.” I blink at him. “Why not?”
“Because.” He unzips his jacket and reaches for the knotted tie at his neck, loosening it so he can then unbutton his shirt.
I’m so confused. “What are you do—”
The rest of the word sticks in my throat when he pulls out a chain that’s hanging around his neck, my ring dangling from it.
My gaze meets his, surprise coursing through me. “Why are you wearing it?”
“It belongs to me now.” His expression is grim.
“What?” Okay, he’s really making no sense. “It’s mine, Crew. It belongs to my family. My father gave me that ring.”
“And I’m taking it. Because I took you.” He glances down, sliding his finger through the ring, though it barely fits. “This is mine, just like you are.”
I blink at him, startled by his declaration. The tiniest bit thrilled by it too. “Crew…”
“Don’t argue with me, Birdy. You’re mine.” He kisses me fiercely. “You don’t belong to him anymore.”
The him he’s referring to is my father.
Crew slips his fingers beneath my chin, his thumb rubbing. “You belong to me,” he whispers.
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AFTER WE KISS for far too long in the darkened classroom, we slip back into the hall, me leaving the room first and Crew waiting a few minutes before he followed after me. I’m already in English by the time he appears, his smile smug as he struts in and slips into the desk directly behind mine.
Fig is nowhere to be found, which is extremely unusual.
Maybe he finally got in trouble and that’s why he isn’t here.
I turn in my seat to talk to Crew. “Did you turn in your paper by midnight?” It was due online by the end of the day yesterday.
“Yep.” He nods. “I even wrote it last night.”
“Crew!” I can’t help but chastise him for waiting so long. He shrugs. “At least it’s done.”
“Are you ready for the final?” His casual attitude about grades and assignments is mind-blowing to me, especially because of how well he does.
“Do you think we’re actually going to have one?” He nods his head toward Fig’s empty desk.
“I don’t know. Even if he’s not here, I’d think they would still give us the final.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs again, like it’s no big deal.
I want to ask him about the possible arrest. What his suspicions might be on where Fig is. But I don’t want to say anything he told me in private that someone else might hear, so I keep my mouth shut.
It’s easier that way.
Mr. Figueroa finally shows up right as the final bell rings, seemingly frazzled. He drops his book bag on top of his desk, scanning the room, his gaze settling on me for a beat too long.
Then I realize he’s actually looking at Crew sitting directly behind me.
Fig clears his throat. “Sorry I’m late. Give me a few and then we’ll start the final.”
The class erupts in whispered conversation, and I can feel a prickle between my shoulder blades. Crew is watching me.
I slowly turn toward him, once again, the weight of someone else’s stare heavy upon me. I barely flicker my gaze in his direction, correct in my assumption.
Fig is watching us, his lip curled into a faint sneer. He glances down at his desk when I catch him, but it’s too late. I saw the disgust on his face. He really can’t stand the idea of me with Crew.
“He doesn’t like seeing me talk to you,” I whisper.
“Well, that’s too fucking bad.” Crew puts a possessive hand on my arm, claiming me in front of Fig.
“Crew…”
“No, don’t tell me to stop. And don’t make excuses for him either.” Crew lowers his voice, his intense gaze meeting mine. “If we’re lucky, his ass is about to get arrested. Maybe even today. I thought they were going to do it over the weekend. He needs to know he can’t come around you anymore. He even looks in your direction and I don’t like it? I’m kicking his ass.”
I’m gaping at him, shocked by the words he’s saying. “Are you serious?”
“I protect what’s mine,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing with anger.
Everything inside me melts at the way he said that. The look on his face, how he’s touching me. The fact that he’s wearing my ring around his neck. His behavior is so archaic and sexist, yet a part of me loves it.
That he believes I belong to him.
There’s a rapid-fire knock on the closed classroom door, and just as Figueroa stands to answer it, Headmaster Matthews strides inside, his gaze frantic when he scans the classroom before he says, “We need you in the office, Mr. Figueroa. Right away.”
Fig stands, swallowing visibly. I pull away from Crew’s grip, facing the front of the classroom, my gaze going to the empty seat beside me.
Maggie isn’t in class. That’s probably a good thing.
Two men and a woman suddenly enter the classroom, all of them wearing dark suits. They give off that cop vibe, and when the female pulls out a pair of handcuffs, I realize my instincts are correct.
“David Figueroa, you’re under arrest,” the woman says as the two males flank either side of Fig and grab his arms before he can get away.
Not like he was trying. Defeat is written all over him.
“Hands behind your back,” she says as the other detectives turn Fig, so his back is to her. The woman lists the charges. Contributing to the sexual delinquency of a minor. Inappropriate sexual behavior with a minor. Sexual misconduct. The list goes on for a while.
Our teacher is in massive trouble. I don’t see him ever recovering from this.
And them arresting him in front of us is sending a message to the entire school. He’s been caught.
Finally.
They haul him out, Fig’s head hanging down the entire time, all of us in the classroom deathly quiet. We’re all in shock. I know I am, and I even had a heads-up.
Matthews stops in the open doorway, contemplating all of us. “Don’t worry about the final. You all got an A on it,” he says.
Right before he turns and leaves.
