Good Girls Never Rise: A Dark Boarding School Romance

She was disappointed. It was subtle, but I saw it.

She didn’t want our tutoring session to end.

She didn’t want the lingering touches to fade.

She didn’t want to keep beating around the bush about what had happened Monday, even if there was a shyness to her too.

I was doing my part in crossing back over the line, because her words sat very quietly in the back of my head. Just for tonight. They sat along with the Rebels’ warnings and my dreadful future, but looking at her all day and remembering what I had felt when I touched her really fucking weighed on me.

Just like it was weighing on me that she kept lifting her head to peek at me over her laptop.

I wouldn’t get to tutor with her tomorrow night.

It was the big rival away game.

I usually enjoyed away games because I didn’t have to worry too much about Bain. I always had it covered. But being in Temple tomorrow meant that I wouldn’t get to see warmth rise to Gemma’s cheeks when our eyes would catch. I wouldn’t get to watch her nibble on her lip as her gaze lingered on my mouth from across this fucking table. I wouldn’t get to argue with myself about whether I should cross the line again or sit here and try to decipher if she wanted to cross it too.

She continued to glance up at me every few minutes, and each time I’d catch her, my core grew hot. Her typing was more furious, but instead of listening to the chanting of regret going on in the back of my head, I stared at her. I was minutes, maybe even seconds from flipping the table over and saying to hell with it all when her fingers finally stopped typing, and she slammed the laptop closed.

“I want to show you something.”

The next thing I knew, she was standing up, still sporting that goddamn schoolgirl uniform, and placing her hand in mine. The softness of her palm felt sacred in mine. Like I didn’t even deserve to be touching her. It felt as if it were grounding me to something that didn’t even come close to reality as we left the library and headed toward the hallway.

I suddenly had a feeling of unworthiness go through me over the fact that, on Monday, after I’d completely lost my cool in front of her and threatened to kill my father, she didn’t look at me differently. In fact, she looked at me more intently now. Like she understood.

And I had tried to give her an out before dipping my head between her legs. I tried to push her into going back to the school and to the bonfire, but she fought hard to stay with me, to show me that she wasn’t judging and that she wasn’t afraid. That spoke volumes about her. It truly did. And maybe that was why I’d been able to keep myself on a leash the last two days. Maybe I knew, deep down, it was going to be extremely difficult to let her go, because in the end, I would have to let her go. No matter what.

“Where are we going?” I asked, catching up with her just enough that she could still pull me in the direction that she wanted to go. The library doors were shut, and the hallway was dark since it was after curfew.

Her flushed cheeks made an appearance again as a soft smile covered her mouth. “You’ll see.”

I didn’t show my skepticism as I continued to walk with her. I pulled my phone out once to see if I had any missed texts, but there was nothing there, which meant Bain wasn’t being sly tonight. I didn’t even have a text from Jack. We’d briefly texted yesterday when I checked in to make sure he was okay after the whole running-from-our-mother thing, but I hadn’t heard from him since. I made a mental note to call my father tomorrow on my way to the game and demand to know where the fuck he was. I would have called him Monday night after I left Gemma, but I knew I needed to wait until the anger subsided all the way before I did that. What I really wanted to do was throat-punch him for leaving Jack alone without Mary as our mother had an episode.

“Isaiah?” Gemma’s sweet voice tore my attention away. “Are you okay?” Her doe-like eyes punched me in the core as she looked down at our hands. I quickly let her hand go, pulling my throbbing one closer to my body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Anger simmered beneath the surface, right below guilt. “Did I hurt your hand?”

She surprised me again when she reached out and rested her palm against mine, intertwining our fingers. “Are you okay? What were you thinking about?”

I let a heavy breath leave my chest as we stayed in the same spot, right in front of the art room. “Nothing. And I’m more okay right now than I ever have been.” And that was true.

Gemma seemed to think over my answer for a minute before nodding, her shiny hair swaying off her shoulders. “Me too.” Then, she turned on her heel, opened the art room door, glanced down to both ends of the hallway, and slipped us inside.

The smell of paint and clay filled my senses, and it honestly pissed me off a little because, up until now, all I could smell was her. I glanced down to her legs, remembering how she tasted the other night. The thought was never really far from my mind. The second I would taste anything sweet from the dining hall, I thought of her. If anyone else got a taste of her like I did, they’d never ever be the same.

Gemma’s hand left mine as the door latched behind us. She made no move to turn the light on. Instead, she walked over to the supply closet, the same one I had pulled her into on her first day of school, and glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and watched her disappear before sitting on the end of Mrs. Fitz’s desk, who would likely scold me if she saw me sitting here, but most of the teachers were gone for the night, unless they had duty.

After a few long seconds, Gemma came back out of the supply closet, holding something in her hand.

“What’s this?”

Her soft expression caught mine, and there was a quick jab to my chest. “I want to show you something.”

Her guard was up. I could tell that much. Her chestnut hair swayed in front of her face, catching the slight silvery gleam of the moon through the window. Her small hands trembled as she fiddled with the piece of paper.

“Gem?” I asked, taking a step toward her. “Whatever you’re about to show me, you don’t have to.”