I told myself it was because I just like the damn stuff, and it's luxe as hell, something I definitely couldn't afford on my own … but maybe it was because it made me think of him? Gah, I’m such a girly, romance-obsessed weirdo! If I ever get to that point where I’m smelling sweaty t-shirts, so help me …
“I didn't stab the librarian. If I did, you would know. I would tell you that I'd done it, and why I did it.” Church reaches up and pushes a loose curl from my forehead. It might be sexy, if my hair wasn't all gross and tangled from rolling around in my sleep. “I'm not sure where he went, but he very clearly came in to tell me something important. I think he's working with Lionel Murphy.”
“That son of a bitch,” Ranger grumbles under his breath. Before we questioned Micah, I gave a quick rundown of my side of the story. Everyone is now officially filled in on all the goings-on from this morning. The first thing the twins and Spencer suggested was that we ‘kick his ass’, but beating up a teacher is sort of worst case scenario stuff.
“You think Mr. Dave is a good guy?” I ask as Church runs his long fingers down the side of my face, and then gently tucks his fingertips beneath my chin. It's a firm but gentle command to look up at him, and even though my first response is to be ornery and turn away with a scowl, I end up looking into his eyes regardless.
“Neutral, maybe. The only good guys are standing in this room. No matter how the evidence looks, do you believe that?” I start to respond, but Church cuts me off by leaning down and capturing my lips in a torturous kiss that's equal parts reassuring and terrifying.
The sweet, sharp taste of danger lingers on his lips, but I find myself falling for it anyway. A great kiss does not a trustworthy person make, and yet …
“What are we going to do if we get stuck here for five nights?” I ask instead, because even if we’re right, and the dead student is an Adamson boy who just happens to be missing, that doesn't mean my father or the police will believe us. I mean, why should they? It sounds far-fetched, like some weird Japanese anime episode. Murder at the Oishii Onsen Lodge, Part I.
I shiver as Church steps away from me, trying not to catch the gazes of any of the other guys. Kissing one in front of the others is just … well, weird. Not sure I'll ever get used to it. Although I wish this was a thing, a group relationship. I mean polyamory is real, so why not?
Only, wouldn't polyamory imply they could date other girls? And I'm just not cool with that. Seriously, I couldn't do that. They're all braver than I am.
“We'll be okay,” Church says, glancing over at Ranger. “I'm assuming you took care of the clothes?”
“They're gone,” Ranger says, and the flat, dark way in which he says it both relaxes and terrifies me. These guys work as a unit, a team. It's seamless. “Let's get some breakfast.” He pushes up from the wall and pauses near me, offering up an arm.
After a small moment of hesitation, I take it, and let him lead me downstairs to the dining area. I notice he can barely keep his azure gaze off of me, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he isn’t vigilant enough. I’ll admit, it’s a bit sexy, the overprotective thing. Or like, maybe a lot sexy.
Dad is near the reception desk, talking with other Adamson staff members, and employees of the resort. He ignores us while we sit down and order, but right at about the time the bowl of edamame arrives, there he is, standing beside me.
I look up.
“Jason Lambert is unaccounted for,” he says, voice gruff as his eyes scan the other boys. “When you're finished eating, I want to speak with you and Spencer again.” I nod, but he's not done, dropping those blue eyes back to my face. “After I get your story, you can explain to me why you're not in the room like I requested.”
He spins on his heel and takes off as I sigh.
This is going to be a long week, isn't it?
“Chuck Carson, I am not the bad guy,” Dad says, his face etched with a deep frown. We stare at each other, standing outside on the bridge that spans the length of the koi pond. “Do you think I make up rules just to torture you?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, and the look he gives me is pure hell. “What? You could try explaining things to me once in a while. Instead, all you do is give vague orders that I'm supposed to follow like a soldier.”
Archie sighs and moves over to the edge of the bridge, staring down at the shiny scaled backs of the fish. They dart from shadows, gold tails flashing.
“You must've gotten that stubbornness from me. Your mother's always been an agreeable sort of person.”
“She's dating Mr. Dave,” I say, unsure as to why I've kept that from him for so long. Hell, maybe he already knows? If he doesn't, he's going to be devastated, I think as I watch the muscles in his upper back and shoulders tighten. “Did you know that?”
“I didn't,” Dad says carefully, lifting his head up to look at me. He and Mom are eighteen years apart. I've always thought of that as a pretty big age gap. It makes me wonder if he ever considered this might happen, if she might decide she wanted a different life one day. “How do you know about this?”
“She took me to dinner with him in LA. Don't you think that's odd that they'd meet up like that?” I swallow hard as Archie sighs, rising to his full height, a muscle in the side of his jaw ticking. “And also, that's pretty messed-up that she didn't tell you.”
“Chuck.” Archie glances my way, mouth pressed into a thin line. “You know your behavior lately has been out of control. What is going on with you and those boys?”
“I'm … we just like each other.” It's all I can think to say. And it's true. That's all that happened, isn't it? We just sort of started getting along.
“First you claim you're dating Spencer Hargrove, then you announce you're dating twins.” Dad scoffs and runs his fingers through his thinning hair, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I find a morning-after pill in your things, and then you fake an engagement to get the Montagues to throw their weight around. Does this sound reasonable to you? Because I raised you better than that.”
I just stare at him and then lift my palms in a helpless gesture.
“Being in a healthy, happy relationship with more than one person doesn't make me a bad human being,” I say, and my voice sounds soft and mature, most definitely a new Charlotte sort of a thing to do.
“Watching my daught—son go after and bed five different boys is not something I'm interested in. This is not the sort of behavior anyone would condone for a seventeen-year-old.” He pushes his glasses up his face, and inhales deeply, like he's trying to keep it all together. “It isn't right.”
“But why? I'm not doing anything wrong. What do you care who I sleep with as long as I'm happy? My grades are better than ever, and for the first time in my life, I'm actually thinking about college. I even started filling out a couple applications. Shouldn't you be happy about that?”
“Sir.” It's Church, standing not too far off from us, dressed in a fresh yukata, and looking as chipper as well, someone who didn't stab their teacher just hours prior. “There's a police officer at the front gate who'd like to speak with you about Jason.”