“I think the real question is, why are you here?”
I look up, leaving the ice cream on the table. “What?”
“You don’t exactly have the admission criteria. Your parents aren’t notable. No one would even know who you are, or care, if you were on the cover of a tabloid. Maybe you’re smart enough, but that’s never why they admit new students. Someone pulled some major strings to get you in here. Why?”
“I’m here on scholarship,” I snap back, providing Niall’s explanation.
“They don’t grant scholarships at Blackwood.”
I’m about to retort with some smartass remark when his answer sinks in. “They don’t?”
“No, they don’t. They’re very selective. And you don’t fit the Blackwood profile. No one here has a criminal record, not even if they were arrested, and most were. Their parents are powerful enough to get it expunged.”
He’s playing with me, and it’s starting to annoy the hell out of me. I huff, fed up. “Who are you? And how do you know so much about me?”
“It’s why I’m here,” he says, his voice almost aloof. “I know too much.”
Then it hits me. “What are you, a hacker?”
He chuckles, the moonlight glinting off straight, white teeth. But he doesn’t answer.
“Are you at least going to tell me your name, or do you prefer to annoy the fuck out of me all night?”
“Oh, I like you,” he says, still smiling. “You bite.”
I roll my eyes. “Really?”
“I’m Brendan.”
And now that I know, there isn’t a reason to stay out here. I lift the tub of ice cream, the spoon falling to the ground. I bend to pick it up just as deep voices cut through the hedges. I straighten, uncertain what to do.
Brendan rolls to stand—a sudden, silent motion—abandoning his glass beneath the hammock. He’s tall and lean, his short hair parted neatly to the side. The mature attire and refined style make him appear much older than a high school student. No wonder I thought he was a teacher.
He nods toward the hedges at the corner of the building closest to us. I eye the door, thinking I can make a run for it before whoever it is, security most likely, comes through the rose trellis. I glance back at Brendan; he shakes his head as if reading my thoughts. He tips his head toward the hedges again just as I hear the voices—they’re too close.
I rush toward the corner of the building, Brendan meets me halfway and guides me with a hand on my lower back. I squeak in protest when he pulls the tub of ice cream out of my arms and tosses it in the hedges. I stop and stare after it longingly, sighing when it disappears under the shrubbery.
“I’ll buy you an entire ice cream truck,” he whispers impatiently, tugging my arm. I relent, letting him drag me into the shadows. A beam of light sweeps the yard just as Brendan presses my back against the side of the building, urging me to slide between the stone and the hedge. And just like that, I’m back at the country club, with my heart pounding and green needles stuck in my hair. Except this time, I’m caged in by a hard body that smells of mint and a cool breeze. I press my nose to his shirt and inhale.
“Did you just smell me?” he whispers in my ear.
I quickly lean back against the uneven stone. I can’t believe I just did that. I glance up to find him grinning down at me.
“What’s the door doing open?” a voice asks. The flashlight searches the corners of the yard. “Do you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Radio in and ask if anyone else reported finding windows or doors open.”
What feels like an hour later, with Brendan’s warm body way too close and his hands on either side of my head, we hear, “There was a window cracked open on the first floor on the other side.”
“Are they going to do a security check?” one of the guards asks.
“They did. Everyone’s in their rooms.” I hear the distinct click of the door being shut “I hate doing the interior patrols. It’s fricken creepy as shit.” The voice fades as he moves away.
Brendan is so close. I try not to glance up, but I can’t help it. He’s looking down at me, his face still lost in shadow so I still can’t tell what he looks like. His lips curve into another arrogant smile. I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge.
“Seriously, you can get off me now,” I tell him, my voice edged with warning. He lifts an arm, releasing me. I peek around the corner and then slowly walk back out into the yard. It’s empty.
“You’re not getting in that way,” Brendan says quietly when I reach the doors.
I know he’s right, but I have to try anyway. They’re locked.
“What do I do?” I’m more annoyed about being stuck outside than nervous about being caught. I don’t necessarily want to get caught and have Niall be called back here on my first day. Imagining the disappointment on his face makes my stomach ache for reasons I don’t want to explore.
“Back into the hedges.” When I hesitate, Brendan beckons, “Come on, Princess, we don’t have all night.”
My spine stiffens. “Don’t call me that,” I snap coldly. I follow after him, slipping in between the hedges and the building. A few feet in, he stops in front of a tall wrought iron fence. I look up. There’s no way I can climb it.
Instead, he crouches, flips up what looks like a grate, and jumps down. He turns toward me and offers his hand. I ignore him and sit on the edge of the lawn and hop down into the trench. I duck as he lowers the grate back in place. He’s forced to walk in an awkward crouch, while I barely have to bend in half. We don’t go too far before he stops in front of an arching subterranean window.
After fiddling with it for a few seconds, Brendan eases the window open and disappears inside. When I shuffle to the ledge, he’s waiting beneath the window with his arms raised to help me down. I can’t see the bottom, so I reluctantly place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to lower me.
Landing within inches of him releases a flush I’m glad he can’t see. He doesn’t remove his hands from my waist right away. I’m overtaken by his scent again and have to fight the urge to close my eyes and breathe him in.
He’s worn a mask of shadows all night–always making him appear unnaturally sculpted and pale. I still don’t know what he really looks like.
When I tip my head back, he’s wearing that same arrogant grin. “Are you going to smell me again?” Why can I not be sober right now? If I were, I’d probably have punched him at least once already.
“Jackass.” I shove him away as he releases a low, rumbling laugh.
Brendan climbs onto something to close the window and takes my hand when he steps back down. My first instinct is to pull away, but the only light is filtering in through the small window, and I have no idea where we’re going.
A small pinpoint of light cuts through the dark, revealing a damp, stone corridor. The light’s coming from a phone, and not the school issued one either.
“Where did you get the phone?”
“There’s not much I can’t get,” he replies, his cockiness tempting me to punch him in the face. “Why? Do you want one?”