Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

I tick off fingers. “Superficial charm, intelligence, grandiose sense of self, ability to harm others without any apparent remorse, relentless pursuit of your own desires at the expense of others, liar liar pants on fire...”

Before I can continue my list, Carter laughs. “Was that last one a technical term, Dr. Ellis?”

“It was,” I say with a nod.

“I haven’t lied to you,” he says.

“You lie to everyone,” I state. “From what I can tell, your whole entire life is a lie.”

“I didn’t say I don’t lie to anyone, I said I haven’t lied to you,” he repeats, meaningfully.

My stomach bottoms out and I break his gaze, grabbing a French fry to distract myself. I’m not sure what to say to that.

On one hand, it could be a manipulation. He must know I have some kind of soft spot for him, because by all rights, I should be seething with anger and discomfort every time I see his face, not skipping out on lunch to go get boneless wings with him.

On the other hand, it could be true. If he’s actually being sincere, I don’t want to be mean and shut him down. If he’s actually trying to reach out, I don’t want to swat his hand away.

But I also don’t want to be one more dumbass who has fallen for his act, and for all I know, that’s all this is. For all I know, he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how conflicted he’s making me feel, and this is all intentional, just the best way he could figure to get what he wants.

His horrible words from that classroom float back to me, reminding me that this person acting like he’s opening up to me in a way he doesn’t with other people is the same asshole who told Jake Parsons to hold me down so he could rape me, the same asshole whose interest was only stirred by the knowledge that I’m a virgin, and who said he wanted to hurt me, that he wanted my virgin blood to be the only lube when he stole my innocence.

Regardless of the words out of Carter’s mouth, I’ve seen him weave a web before I was emotionally involved, and he could easily be doing the same exact thing to me now, only I can’t see it. My judgment is cloudy because deep down I want to believe he’s not as bad as he proved he was that day, and when you want to see something so badly, sometimes you invent evidence to support that belief.

Carter’s mind moves fast even when he hasn’t had time to prepare—I saw that in the empty classroom, when he turned a routine bullying into sexual assault with a hint of potential murder if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, when he hijacked Jake’s crusade because he discovered I appealed to his particular appetites. That all happened in the space of a few minutes; Carter had no idea what he was walking into or that any of that would happen, and he still directed it like a fucking maestro.

He has had much more time to figure out how to play me. He’s not winging it; he has had time to study me like I’ve studied him, time to gauge my reactions, time to learn how to get what he wants—which is possibly still me alone somewhere so he can hurt me.

That reminder is like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. I toss the rest of my French fry into the empty wing boat and grab my phone, checking the time.

“We should head back. Lunch is going to be over soon, and I can’t be late to my next class.”

He regards me studiously, like he’s trying to pinpoint where he went wrong. At least, that’s how his gaze feels. Maybe now I’m being paranoid, seeing calculation where none exists, but I can’t be sure and I’d rather be safe than sorry.

“All right,” he says, easily enough. Looking at my mouth, he points to the corner of his. “You have a little sauce right there. Might wanna go fix it in the bathroom first, or everyone will know you had BBQ wings for lunch.”

I cover my mouth, jumping up and running to the bathroom.

There’s no sauce on my face. I see that immediately when I get in front of the mirror. It also occurs to me the bathroom is down a hallway, more removed from the dining room. Isolated.

I swallow, looking at the door, half-expecting for it to swing open and Carter to bust in, smirking victoriously at how easy it was to get me alone. Visions of being attacked in this bathroom flood my mind and the walls start to close in on me.

Rather than stand here and work myself into a panic, I pull the restroom door open, braced to see Carter on the other side, waiting in the hall.