Page 37 of The Misfit

“Either way, when it comes to your family, I fit the bill, at least on paper. They want standard, normal. I’m neither of those things, but I can pretend to be …”

“Who gives a fuck what they think is normal or standard? What do you need, Salem?” His fingers resume their pattern on my waist, but there’s something different about his touch now. Something almost … possessive.

“Protection,” I whisper. “Legitimacy. A shield.”

He’s quiet for so long that I start counting my breaths again.

One, two, three …

“You really think I’m safe?” he finally asks, but there’s something in his voice I can’t quite read.

“Aren’t you?”

His laugh is soft and a little dark. “Oh, Pantry Girl. You have no idea how dangerous I could be.”

“Compared to your friends, you’re pretty tame, or so I’ve heard.”

“Tame?” He grins. “Don’t think even for a second that I don’t have the capabilities of being as depraved and fucked up as my friends simply because I don’t wear my darkness front and center. If anything, I’m even more dangerous. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for…”

“Are you telling me I should be scared of you?”

“Are you scared of me, Pantry Girl?”

Am I?Lee, his friends, The Mill. It’s all shrouded in secrets. Of course there are whispers. Everyone knows about the messed-up stuff they do, about what happens when you cross one of them. If I used any part of my brain to think through this response, I would say yes. But it isn’t any of those things that scare me. It’s the prospect of falling for him, wanting something I can’t have and was never mine for the taking.

As if my response is taking too long, Lee cocks his head to the side and frowns. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“No, I’m sorry.” I finally speak. “I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think you’d hurt me.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t. Now, if we do this,” Lee says after a long moment, shifting to face me fully, “we have to do it right. No half measures.”

I nod, already making mental lists. “Ground rules. Boundaries. A clear timeline?—”

“No.” His hand slides from my waist to catch my chin, making me look at him. “I mean, we have to be convincing. My family will watch every move. Look for any sign this isn’t real.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about that part. About having to actually act like a couple in love.

“And Marcus?” His thumb brushes over my gloved knuckles. “He won’t buy it if you flinch every time I touch you.”

My throat goes dry. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we need practice.” His eyes drop to my lips, then back up. “Need to get comfortable around each other. If we’re going to do this, it needs to look real.”

“You mean …”

“We need to kiss, Salem.” The way he says my name makes something flutter in my stomach. “Not just once. Not just for show. We need to look like we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

“But you’re?—”

“A very good actor.” Something dangerous dances in his eyes. “The question is, are you?”

I swallow hard, watching his fingers trace patterns on my glove. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Let me kiss you. Right now. Think of it a … a trial run.”

“Here?” My voice squeaks. “In public?”

His smile turns wicked. “Where better to start our performance?”

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