Page 133 of Forbidden Lessons

Melissa sends me a cool glance. “It’s tonight. Just getting Haven settled in. Go inside so long. Everyone’s waiting.”

She sounds like she’s reading a fucking telegram. I keep expecting her to say, “stop,” at the end of every sentence. Lord knows why Ezra thought this chick was bangable. She’s way too fucking high maintenance for someone as detached as a psychopath.

I saunter past as slow as I can, straining for any last words from either of them.

Haven’s settling in? What does that even?—

“Wait…I’m moving in tonight?” Haven squeaks like the little mouse she is. “But all my stuff is back at—I mean, in my car. Myothercar.”

“It’s in the Land Rover,” Rooke says.

How the fuck does he know where her stuff is?

“Oh. Right.”

I glance back in time to see Haven slide a hand behind her neck.

Her smooth, pale, unmarked neck.

I almost walk into one of the fucking pillars supporting the porch roof.

Where the fuck is my hand necklace?

I know I fucking left one. It was already blooming on her skin when I left her there on the grass, legs spread where I’d been fingering her.

Jesus. Unless…did that shit actually happen?

I know I went to class. I can clearly remember Bastian saying he was running late, and then keeping his class occupied. How devastated Haven looked when I read that thing about her car.

But now, seeing her standing there by Melissa and Rooke, a little wild and untamed, but perfectly unhurt…I’m doubting my own fucking sanity.

She looks up, our eyes meeting.

And her hand slides from the back of her neck to the front. She traces her fingers over her skin, her lips parting. Then she licks her lips and looks away, facing Rooke with almost steely determination, eyes wide like she’s forcing herself to pay attention to what he’s saying.

It happened.

She’s covered it up, but it fucking happened.

A manic laugh shoots past my lips before I clamp my jaw closed. I drag my fingers through my hair as I head for the GAZ dining room. There are voices up ahead, some masculine, most feminine. The others are already here.

I’m the only one who’s late.

Me…and Haven.

When I turn to take my seat, ignoring a girl who turns to wrinkle her nose at me, and I see Haven walking in behind Melissa, I fall more than sit in the French-upholstered chair.

She gives me a nervous little glance, and pulls out a chair beside Melissa, keeping her eyes averted.

I cross my arms over my chest, kick my chair onto its back legs, and rock.

The guy sitting next to me leans closer, turning so his back to the rest of the table. “Dude, that reefer I smell?”

Guy’s got the nose of a narco dog. I cock an eyebrow at him. “And?” I think he’s from the frat next door to ours. They’re mostly jocks and party animals.

He glances away. “Wanna light up after?”

I grin. “Yeah, sure.”

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