“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah? What am I thinking, Bronwyn?” he asked, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, propped against the wall like he always is when he watches me in his space.
“You’re thinking, Conrad” — I widened my eyes, which made him break out his quarter of a smile — “that how is it possible that Bronwyn can cook? A teenager who doesn’t know the ways of the world. How on earth is it possible? But I’ll have you know —”
That was all I could get out before he was on me.
Before he picked me up again, his mouth kissing the fuck out of me like he can’t bear the thought of ever breaking our kisses, and laid me down on the kitchen island.
“But you do know the ways of the world now, don’t you?” he said over my lips. “I taught you. I’m teaching you. And I’m going to teach you more.”
I grabbed his hair. “Are you saying I’m not a teenager anymore?”
“You fucking are,” he said before roving his eyes over my face and continuing, “but you’re different. You’re more.”
I grinned then.
Slowly and surely.
Because oh my God. Did he really just say that?
And I went in to ask him, to confirm, but he proceeded to kiss me again before going down and kissing me down there too.
Oh, and I also figured out, while I was making pancakes for him and he sat at that same kitchen island, staring at me with his wet, red lips, what happened to my dress.
Apparently he threw it away.
And when I asked him why, this was his response: “Because I told you what would happen if you wore a dress that could barely contain your milkmaid tits and your stripper ass.” His bright eyes darkened as he ran them up and down my body. “I told you that I’d rip it off. But since it was already off your body, I just picked it up and thew it in the trash.”
Once I got over that shock, I asked, sputtering, “What am I… What am I going to wear on my way back home?”
His gaze turned possessive then. “My clothes. And you can’t say no.”
It sent a shiver running down my body. A strong, pulsing shiver.
“I can’t say no.”
He shook his head very, very slowly, with a smirk stretching his lips up on one side. “No.”
“And why not?”
“Because” — his eyes went on the move again, looking at my bare legs that partially showed off the art on my body — “my name is written all over you. Which means I own you. Which means that if I want to see you in my clothes, you’re not allowed to say no.”
So there.
I’m not allowed to say no and I don’t even want to.
So of course I’ve been grinning since Friday.
Which Salem and Poe definitely notice. And since they can both guess why, they grin with me. Salem throws me winks and Poe shoulder-bumps me whenever Callie isn’t looking.
Which, despite everything, does put a damper on my enthusiasm a little bit.
She has every right to know why I’m so happy today. Not only because she’s one of my best friends, but also because the reason for my happiness is her brother.
And yet I’m hiding things from her.
I know Conrad said that she’d always be my best friend, but now I’m not so sure. If I had gone to her before and confessed everything, I still could have saved our friendship. But now after so many secrets, especially the one that happened on Friday, I know I’ve lost my chance.
I know I’ve screwed things up more than they needed to be.
I’ll tell her soon though. I will.
I must.
But for now I need to see him.
So instead of going to class with my girls, I make an excuse and run up to his office.
As I said, I’m not sure of the protocol here. Do I wait for him to find me or should I go find him myself? So I’m just picking the best option.
Only he’s nowhere to be found.
Or at least he’s not in his office.
Plus the door is locked, which is very unusual. It makes me think that maybe he never arrived at St. Mary’s today. Which is highly unusual too because he’s never missed a day since he started.
The earlier buoyancy and lightness that I felt starts to vanish then.
But the worry really starts to set in when he doesn’t show up for lunch either. Which he does like clockwork. Every single day, to see Callie. And I get so restless that I almost ask her where her brother is.
I mean, just asking about it won’t raise suspicion.
I can ask about Conrad, right?
But as it turns out I don’t have to. Salem does it for me and she does it so casually too. “Where’s Coach Thorne?”