These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

I mean it’s so rare that even my guidance counselor – the woman who absolutely hates me – was shocked when she informed me of this yesterday. She said that I needed to talk to Principal Carlisle about this. And that she’d help me if she could.

Which moved me, I’m not going to lie.

It brought tears to my eyes but since I don’t cry in front of people, I simply sprung up from my seat and left.

I was planning on talking to Principal Carlisle this morning but before I could do that, came this hellish announcement that Mr. Marshall, my fucking evil guardian, is going to be the new principal.

“Your graduation isn’t stopped,” he informs me. “It’s merely being delayed.”

“And you’re responsible for it, right?”

“No. Your grades are.”

I growl. “Are you… Are you fucking serious right now?”

He simply blinks. “There’s a minimum requirement to be able to graduate. And you’re falling short of it. As long as you attend summer classes, maintain the grades and retake the tests at the end, you should be fine.”

“What is wrong with you?” I burst out. “No one and I mean, no one in the last decade has attended summer school at St. Mary’s. Do you understand what that means? Are you saying that every single one of those girls had the minimum grades?” I shake my head. “People graduate on time at this school. Because this isn’t a normal school. This is a fucking prison. And you want me to stay here for another three months. I mean, seriously. What the hell is wrong with you?”

At this he does sigh.

But I’m not happy.

Because I don’t think it’s the sign that he’s tired of me. It’s more of an indication that he’s patient. Like he can do this all day long, fight with me and argue with me and I’m the one wasting my time because I won’t come out as a winner.

“I understand that this is unusual,” he begins. “But it’s for your own good. Your grades and your performance have been abysmal. It would be a disservice to you if we sent you to college without helping you improve.”

I want to stomp my foot at how serious and concerned he sounds.

Like he cares what happens to me.

If he did, he wouldn’t have sent me here. He wouldn’t have taken everything from me.

He wouldn’t have taken him from me.

The boy I loved.

“Principal Carlisle would have,” I say then. “As much as she hates me, she never would have let this happen. She never would’ve forced me to stay here at St. Mary’s.”

At this, he moves away from the door and thrusts his hands down his pockets. “Well, Principal Carlisle isn’t your principal anymore. I am and I’m not going to overlook the protocol. As I said, your graduation has merely been delayed. You want to graduate, then show up for classes, do your homework, be on your best behavior and pass the tests. If you’ve done all that, you’re free to leave this place at the end of the summer.”

With that, he walks further into the room and rounds the desk. He’s going for a bunch of files when someone knocks at the door and he calls for them to come in. They tell him that his stuff is here and he nods. “I’ll be there in a second. Thank you.”

I was still reeling from his whole ‘you want to graduate, then do these things,’ but now I’ve got something else to worry about.

Frowning at him, I ask. “What’s happening? What stuff?”

He keeps me in suspense for a second or two before leveling me with his dark gaze and replying, “I’m moving.”

“Moving where?”

“On Campus.”

“What?”

Another sigh and again it’s not because he’s tired of me. But because he’s patient. “I’m moving into one of those cottages. I’ll be staying on campus for the summer. It’s convenient.”

“I –“

“If there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to work and go see how my stuff is faring. There’s a lot that I need catching up on.”

I stare at his jaw.

His hard, masculine, clenched jaw.

And imagine punching it.

Repeatedly.

So not only he’s forcing me to stay here during the summer, but he’s staying here too.

With me.

Where I’ll have to see him every day.

That was the one silver lining in all of this mess: the fact that while at St. Mary’s, I didn’t have to look at him or be near him every second of every day.

But of course that’s not the case anymore, is it?

“So you’re staying here this summer. At St. Mary’s,” I say, staring at him. “Where I am.”

He stares back, still as calm and composed. “I realize what a risk it is. To stay close to someone who so desperately wants to kill me. But I think I’m willing to take my chances.”

He is, is he?