Good Girls Never Rise: A Dark Boarding School Romance

“I’m just messing with you,” I said in a low voice, trying to remember the whole point of this conversation. “I mean, it would be nice if we could be friends.” Why did that word sound so fucking bothersome? “But we don’t have to be anything more than tutor and student, if you want to get technical. You tutor me, and the nights when I have to dip out early, you lie and say I was with you the whole time. That’s all.”

Time had passed. I wasn’t sure how much, but it had to have been a while because I was becoming very observant of the smallest movements from her. I could hear her soft breathing. I could feel her body heat, smell the scent of her shampoo.

“Why?” she finally asked, her voice no louder than her quiet breaths. “Why do I need to lie? Why do I need to cover for you? Where will you be going?”

“Sometimes I need to leave the school at night, and since I’m on probation, I’m kind of out of second chances for redemption.” That was all she was going to get from me. I couldn’t dive any further into why I leave on occasion. I just couldn’t.

She shifted on her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. I wished it wasn’t so dark in the closet so I could see how her legs looked in that oversized shirt again. Did she even have any shorts underneath? Or just her panties? Fuck. Pay attention.

“You’re on probation because...” She hesitated, and my head tilted, waiting for her to finish. “Because of you and…and…the teacher having...”

“Sex?” I hardly concealed my amusement. “You can say the word, Good Girl. It’s not dirty unless you make it that way.” I paused. “And we didn’t have sex.”

The air whooshed as she quickly stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips. “I know I can say the word!” she whisper-snapped.

I smashed my lips together to hide my laughter, but her arms dropped, and her hair fell forward like a shield. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I don’t know why you make me so…angry. There’s just something about you that—”

“Gets you all fired up?” I smiled. “I noticed…and I like it.”

Her head moved a fraction. “You like when I’m rude to you?”

My lips curved. “I kind of like that I have an effect on you.”

“No one said you had an effect on me.”

I laughed, knowing very well that I did have an effect on her.

Gemma took a step away from me, as if she could hear my thoughts. Then, she straightened her shoulders again. “So…you need me to tutor you to help you get your grades up and lie for you on the nights that you have to leave the school to do...”

Fuck. I held my breath, hoping to God she didn’t ask what I did when I left the school. I wouldn’t tell her. I’d have to lie, and for some reason, lying to a girl like her just felt wrong.

She sighed. “Whatever. That doesn’t matter. So, I need to tutor you and lie sometimes…if anyone asks?”

It sounded like she was beginning to accept my proposition, and I felt instant relief at her words. “Yep.” I pushed myself back a little farther and propped my leg up behind me onto the linen-lined shelves. “So, you’re in, then?”

Her whisper cut through the air like a knife. “No one said I was in.”

I suppressed a frustrated growl. Goddamn. Was she toying with me now? “But you’re considering it. I saw the way you paused earlier when I said I’d give you anything you wanted.”

Another heavy bout of silence filled the sultry closet that was no longer smelling like linens but more so Gemma. Something soft and girly. I liked it so much I wished I could taste it. I bet she tasted sweet.

“My uncle cannot find out.” Her words were laced with venom but dripping in fear. “He wouldn’t be happy if he knew I was tutoring you.”

“You mean Judge Stallard?”

I felt the uptick in her stress level. The change in the tiny room was nearly suffocating with her tension. “You…you know my uncle? By name?” She stumbled over her words, and part of me wanted to reach out to steady her.

“I don’t personally know him,” I answered swiftly. “But after going through the trouble of removing the blog post from Mary’s Murmurs, I wanted to know just who your uncle was and why you were afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Gemma shot forward, as if her getting closer to me was going to convince me of the bald-faced lie coming out of her mouth. She was afraid. No amount of shoulder straightening, chin lifting, or confident stance was going to fool me. Her small frame nearly quaked with fear at the sound of his name coming from my lips.

Giving in, I sighed. “Whatever you say.” And then I took a step toward her. “Then let’s talk about payment because the sooner we do this, the better.”

A slight nod in the dark was all I got.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Gemma