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She watches him with disbelief for a second or two. “You’re Charlie’s daughter’s guardian.” Then, shaking her head, “I can’t believe it.” Her disbelief has hardened into something harsh and cruel even. “After everything. I really thought that we could be allies.”
“We could be,” he agrees. “If it was a real thing. But unfortunately, we’re not in high school anymore.”
“I thought I could trust you.”
“Your two divorces should’ve taught you not to trust men. Although, you were the one who screwed them over so maybe not.”
“You’re —”
“Now get out.”
She doesn’t.
Not right away. She looks him up and down, her head shaking. “You’re still the same, aren’t you? You might have changed on the outside but on the inside, you’re still the same fucking loser.”
He stiffens.
Not that he wasn’t already all stiff and tight.
But Cynthia’s words turn him into a rock. Hard and barely breathing.
Wooden and feelingless.
Me, on the other hand, I’m breathing really fast. I’m breathing like a hurtling train. And I’m all ready, I swear to God I am, to do something drastic.
To maybe lunge at her and smack her face.
For calling him that.
In his own home no less. At his own school.
What the fuck is wrong with her? How dare she?
I even take a step toward her but then she focuses on me and says, “And I’m not a hooker.”
With that, she moves. She turns around and walks toward the couch. She picks up her handbag, spins on her heel and then strides back to the door, before walking out and leaving.
Leaving both of us alone.
And maybe I should be afraid right now. Maybe I should be panicking because he’s back to staring down at me with a ticking jaw and his voice is so low and rough that it sends shivers down my spine. “Inside.”
But I’m not afraid.
As I step inside his cottage, I’m seething.
I’m angry.
As soon as he slams the door shut, I spin around. “Who was she? And what the fuck was she talking about? How dare she call you that? A loser.” I’m so angry that I don’t let him get in a word as I keep going. “How fucking dare she? Doesn’t she know who you are? I mean, you’re the principal of this school and that’s the least of your achievements. I can’t believe it. I’m so mad right now and —”
He moves then, stealing my words. He strides over to the couch and picks up his tumbler of scotch before draining it in one go. And then he turns around, his eyes darker than before and his jaw tighter.
Which finally makes the situation sink in.
Which finally makes my fear seep through my anger.
He looks at the empty glass, moving it back and forth in his hand. “You know, ever since I got here, I’ve been quite taken with this particular piece of literature. This manual. With all the rules and regulations of St. Mary’s. I have to say that my family thought of everything.” He looks at me then. “I specifically like this clause about bed checks.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I actually do find it interesting.”
“Y-you’re…” I lick my dry lips. “You’re thinking about bringing back the bed checks.”
He lowers his glass and puts it back on the coffee table. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“You can’t do that,” I say, loudly. “You absolutely cannot do that. That’s cruel.”
He shrugs then, all casually. “But then I do so enjoy being cruel.”
I can’t believe this.
Having me list all my secret spots and pathways is one thing, but now he wants to bring back the stupid bed check rule? It’s an ancient, cruel rule that was banished many years ago, where a warden would conduct regular bed checks during the night to account for all students.
Which means sneaking out would be next to impossible.
What is it with him?
Why is he so hellbent on sucking every ounce of joy and life out of this place?
“You’re a tyrant, you know that? You’re a big fucking bully.”
My insults make him tip his mouth up in a small smirk as he says, “And yet you keep messing with me.”
“I —”
“I told you what would happen if you sneaked out of your dorm again, didn’t I?”
I take a step back then. “I’m not afraid of you.”
He looks at my retreating feet that are basically making a liar out of me. “Then I highly advise that you start now.”
I keep backing away. “Why are you like this, so mean?”
His chest expands on a breath. “Why do you make it so easy for me? To be mean.”
“What happened to you?” I ask, shaking my head. “Something happened to you, didn’t it? To make you this way.”
He shakes his head, barely affected by my words. “Yeah and it’s a very tragic tale.”
My back hits the wall and I have nowhere to go.
And then he’s upon me in a flash.
