Touched By The Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 3)

I stop just shy of rolling my eyes at her. “No offense, but I sort of have this whole philosophy. When people show me who they are, I believe them the first time.” I put Georgia’s earrings into my pocket, real careful-like, so I don’t lose them. “He showed me who he is. Volatile, violent, selfish, dangerous… probably an abusive piece of shit.”

“He’s not…!” she starts, but instantly stops, her lips forming a tight line. “Bass is actually a good guy. He’s loyal and funny and incredibly hot.” She gives me a hard look, “And you can never tell him I said that.”

“I won’t,” I reply, wanting to argue with all of that, but not bothering. This girl obviously likes t

hat shitbag—I won’t be changing any minds here—and I’m not trying to beef with one of Preston’s resident Scary Girls.

“Here’s the thing,” she says. “Bass is going through a lot right now. It’s not my drama to talk about, but just be aware that you’ve only been introduced to his worst shade. I’m not saying you should be best friends with the guy or anything, but there are a lot of people around here way more dangerous than Sebastian Wilcox. I’d suggest that you ignore him, but he’s like a fly to honey, and if I’m not mistaken your name is Sugar, right?”

“Yeah,” I reply, eyes narrowing, “but what the hell does that mean?”

She picks up her leather bag and slings it over her shoulder. “Well, just look at you. You’re different and pretty and look like you could shove that boot up someone’s ass. And I suspect that hitting you that night bothers him way more than he’d ever admit. The guys around here like to have control, and it sounds like he completely lost it that night. It’s probably driving him crazy, which would explain whatever happened in class today.” Her phone vibrates and she looks down, revealing a ghost of a smile. “I need to take this, but sit with us at lunch today, okay? Georgia will be there.”

I take a moment to consider this. “Will he be there?”

“Most likely.” She heads to the door, hair swinging behind her. “Oh, I’m Afton by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Afton,” I say, although I’m not really sure what just happened. The offer of lunch is phrased like an invitation, but I get the feeling most people don’t turn this girl down, which is possibly why she left before I could agree. Even though I don’t decline, I don’t plan on taking her up on it, either. Afton may be the Queen Bee of this school, but I don’t intend on being in anyone’s hive.

The rest of my morning goes by without incident and is pleasantly Sebastian Wilcox-free. Well, for the most part. I have a study period before lunch and am assigned to go to the library to catch up on a long-term project. That’s where I inadvertently sit next to what I can only assume is the school gossip, which results in me learning more about everyone than I really want to.

I choose a seat, but I’m more distracted with how to feel about pulling out my laptop than who I’m sitting by. Part of me wants to feel embarrassed at the way it looks. The screen casing is held together by duct tape, a long, jagged fracture going down the corner, that I’ve tried to cover with stickers. There are three keys missing, and it doesn’t quite close right. A bigger part of me thinks, fuck it, and dumps it unceremoniously onto the smooth tabletop, mentally daring anyone to look my way. It’s an ancient, loud machine that whirs like a beast when I boot it up.

It’s not long before the two girls sitting on a couch across from the table capture my attention. Their heads are titled together conspiratorially. “Three weeks? He probably knocked her up and she left town to deal with it.”

“I heard rehab.”

“That tracks,” the girl with dark hair says. Her skirt barely covers her thighs. “Kicking a three-year habit is hard, especially when your delinquent boyfriend can just steal whatever you want.”

I stare at my computer, listening. How can I not? Afton had said this place was full of deviants. Sounds like she was right about that.

“So what’s the sitch, Syd. You still going to make a play for Reyn, or what?” the other girl asks. I sneak a peek at the folder sitting on the table in front of her. The name ‘Fiona’ is handwritten in blocky letters.

“Hell no.” The Syd girl snorts. “He’s obviously the kind of guy who only goes for pity fucks. Not my speed.” She presses her pen to her bottom lip. “I’ve got my eye on someone else now.”

Fiona grins. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“An old conquest. He would’ve been mine by now if I hadn’t been distracted by Reyn coming back.” She crosses and uncrosses her legs. “Bass and I go way back. I think it may be time to rekindle that spark, know what I mean?”

Sebastian. Here we go again. I shouldn’t be surprised he’d be into a girl like the one in front of me. Everything about her reeks trouble. Even if he’s not looking for it, I get the feeling it follows him around like a magnet.

“I hear about him and Carlton going to the car shows all the time, now that he can’t fight anymore. I found a hookup who can send me the time and location of the next one. I’m hoping once he’s hopped up on adrenaline, he’ll be ready to give this another shot.”

“It’s a solid plan,” her friend says. The lunch bell rings before I can hear anything else, and I return my battered laptop to my bag and head into the hall. The swarm of students goes in one direction, toward the dining hall. I fall behind the current, tucking my limbs in close, putting on my best fuck-you-glare to discourage any closeness. When I finally get into the line, I surreptitiously search the large room. It doesn’t take long to find it. Right in the center of it all, I catch sight of Afton’s straight posture and Georgia’s red hair. Weaving his way to their table is the tuft of blond hair that’s haunted my nightmares for months. My pulse quickens at the mere sight of him, and nope, there’s no chance I’m sitting with these people, no matter how popular or connected they are. I didn’t come here to climb a ladder, anyway. I came for an education and a ticket out of the Cliffs.

I grab one of the to-go boxes at the end of the counter and quickly swipe my card. I then cut along the backside of the room, away from the tables, and duck out the side door.

The sun is out, which makes it warm enough that my lack of coat isn’t an issue. I make my way back behind the dining hall, back to where I’d seen the cats the night before. I don’t see any as I approach, but I take a seat on the tree stump and open my lunch. There’s a turkey sandwich with lettuce and cheese, a bag of chips, and an orange. I peel the orange and then pull apart the meat in the sandwich, hoping to lure the cats into the open.

It doesn’t take long before I see the mama cat peek her orange nose out from behind a bush. Moments later, the black one slinks from the tree line. There’s no sign of the gray one, but I carry over a few pieces of meat and leave them on the ground. They watch me suspiciously as I go back to the stump.

What these cats don’t realize is that I’m a very patient person. I have nowhere to be and nothing to do but eat my orange and try to get them used to me. The black cat emerges first, nose twitching as he sniffs the turkey a few feet away. He makes a wide arc around, both coming closer and farther away at the same time.

Quietly, carefully, I take out my camera.

The black cat eats the turkey as the mama looks on, skeptical but clearly wanting. I capture a series of shots of her sitting near the bush, her round belly making the sharpness of her shoulders seem even more striking.

I’m swinging my camera around to get a look at the black one when someone else fills my lens. Sebastian Wilcox stands about twenty feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, aloof expression on his face.