Page 57 of Forbidden Lessons

Standing, I wait to see if Bastian will notice before ambling innocently to the bookshelf beside one of the enormous wall-to-ceiling windows. I don’t know if I want to stare at the view or browse his collection of leather-bound books, but I tell myself the forest will always be there, and doesn’t require a key and an invitation to view.

A minute later, I feel seventy-five times more inferior than I did when I first walked into Bastian’s house. The books on these dark shelves are dense. If Bastian’s gas ever got cut off, he could easily burn a handful of these babies for heat.

My eyes wander lower. The titles down there hint at philosophy, psychology, science. A lot of “Human” this and “Mind” that.

Then there’s this row of slim, almost invisible books right at the bottom. Dark spines. A collection of some kind. A hundred, maybe more.

I tug one out.

ACTIVI—

“Shouldn’t you wait until I’m in the other room before you start snooping?”

I shove the notebook back in its place and straighten so quickly I almost knock into the mug Bastian’s holding out for me.

“Fuck! Sorry.” I reach out to take the cocoa, but he’s pulling it away with a grimace like I’m about to have a seizure and he doesn’t want to spill on his rug.

I hold out my hands. “Sorry.”

“You weren’t kidding about the lack of motor control,” he says, his eyes darting to the bruise on my jaw.

I’d forgotten about it.

Forgotten,briefly, about Kai.

Why is it so easy to live a lie when I’m around this man?

The mug is scorching. I hurry over to the coffee table to set it down. A slab of glass over a polished wooden log. It almost looks like a petrified wave.

Bastian takes a seat on the two-seater sofa, swinging an arm around the back as he turns to lean into the corner. “You’re more than welcome to join me. Or you could sit in the kitchen, if you think I’m going to tie you to the radiator.”

“Okay, you can stop with the whole serial killer thing, all right?” I shake my head, smiling ruefully as I cradle my mug and take the seat next to him.

“Woah, that escalated quickly.” He chuckles. “First I’m kidnapping you, now I’m making tacky lampshades with your skin? You kids watch too many crime shows.”

“Boomer.” I roll my eyes at him, blowing on my cocoa to cool it down. The clouds are growing darker outside, and I don’t want to miss another class.

Of course, I’d rather stay here all afternoon.

Because of the fireplace, of course. It’s really started warming up the room. And I love the flicker of the flames, even while longing for the crackle of wood.

He widens his eyes. “You take that back, dearie. I’m barely thirty-four.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I murmur into my cocoa before taking a tentative sip.

Bastian crooks an eyebrow when I splutter as the liquid hits my throat.

“Is there booze in this?” I wheeze.

“What heathen doesn’t put bourbon in their cocoa?” He takes a long sip from his mug, then frowns. “And please don’t pretend you don’t drink. This is Agony Hollow. Everyone here drinks.”

“I’m nineteen!” I squeak, in case that somehow slipped his notice.

“Pleasure to meet you, Nineteen. I’m Boomer.”

I stare at him.

When he laughs, so do I. Because God, it’s so fuckingeasy.

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