“No reason.” I pause, wondering if I should tell Dad about Mr. Murphy and the notes. But there's just something about the way he's been acting since we got to Adamson that makes me suspicious. I think about Ross’ casual mention of Mr. Dave and Mr. Murphy praising my father for sending me back to California.

A thought forms in my mind, and I shift nervously in place.

“I have to go,” I say, turning toward the door.

“Not until you sign this write-up,” he says, and I groan. Three write-ups is suspension. Seven is expulsion. Not good. I take the stupid thing and head back to the dining room where Ranger's still waiting for me.

“I just need to grab something from upstairs,” I murmur, bouncing up the steps and then creeping down the hall to my dad's room. His phone is where it always is, resting on the nightstand next to the bed, plugged in and charging. I could take it, but he'd know right away that it was me. Instead, I check to see if he still has the same pin code to get in and curse under my breath when it doesn't work. I try a few more combinations, including his birthday, my mom's birthday, their wedding anniversary. Nothing. Instead of wasting anymore time on it, I look through his closet real quick, his bathroom.

But there's nothing.

Some sleuth I am. In movies, don't characters like, have random revelations, and all the clues just fall into place? Why can't that happen for me?

Instead, I decide to quit while I'm ahead, moving into my room to grab a few extra jackets from my closet—stupid northeast autumn. It feels like it gets colder every damn day. When I step into the room, I see a set of girls' uniforms on the bed, three different styles with varying lengths of skirt, color combinations, and ties.

He must be trying to decide on a uniform for the new students, I think, stepping up next to my bed. The one thing they all have in common is a champagne colored blazer—meant for a senior. On a whim, I grab a uniform set, wrap it up in my coat, and then head downstairs and out the door before Dad can see or stop me.

I never wanted to attend Adamson as a girl.

But now that there are other girls preparing to come here?

It feels like a challenge.

Okay, that’s it.

I’m going to do it.

I’m going to attend Adamson in a fucking skirt.

Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.

“You’re really going to do it then?” Ranger asks as he walks me back toward the dorms and I show him the uniform I just stole. It looks like it might be a bit tight in the chest, but compared to the bindings, I’m sure it’ll feel like the girls are a’bobbling around in the wind. “Go as a girl?” He gets out a cigarette, cupping his hand around the flame of the lighter as he tries to get it burning.

“I … think I am,” I say, furrowing my brow as I hold the garment bag up and then sling it over my arm. Ranger offers to take it for me, and I pass it over with a grin. “You’re quite the gentleman today.”

He snorts, but doesn’t say much else as we follow the curved path past the main building. It’s dark out, but there are brand-new lights along the path that really help drive back the creepiness from the surrounding woods. Somewhere nearby, an owl hoots and I shiver.

“It’s the least I can do, considering what I almost did to you in that kitchen,” he growls, his sapphire eyes ringed with black liner, the top buttons on his uniform undone just enough that I can see the edges of his Jenica chest tattoo.

“Meaning what, exactly?” I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to let the darkness freak me out. Even if the three attackers came on us now, I have a new container of pepper spray in my pocket, next to my replacement Taser (since my original one was lost in the tunnels). And, you know, I also have Ranger. Just the memory of him putting Cody in a chokehold brings me great joy.

“Meaning I was going to throw you over the counter, slap your ass and leave a flour handprint, and then probably fuck you in that apron.” Ranger shivers and my mouth drops open, redness filling my cheeks as he stares down at me.

“I mean … that’s not what I was asking!” I put my hands over my face as he lets out a deep, dark chuckle from beside me.

“You should be clearer next time then,” he says, the slightest hint of a laugh in his voice. “Because I could’ve described my fantasies in a hell of a lot more detail than that.”

“I was just wondering why you thought you needed to be a gentleman,” I ask, dropping my hands down as we pause outside the boys’ dorm. There are a few other guys out here, talking and smoking, so I make sure to cover up the uniform hanging over Ranger’s arm with my jacket. “You didn’t do anything wrong that day.”

“It was wrong because we hadn’t talked about it,” he clarifies and then sighs, ashing his cigarette in the wind and then bending down to scrape the burning cherry against the sidewalk. He puts the butt carefully into the trashcan, his eyes distant in thought. When he turns to look back at me, my skin breaks out in goose bumps under that powerful gaze. “But I guess, since we have talked about it … it wouldn’t be so wrong.”

“Are you saying you want to naked bake with me?” I whisper back, just before we hear the sound of footsteps on gravel and turn to see a boy that looks like an older version of Spencer Hargrove standing on the path nearby.

“Jack?” Ranger asks, a small flash of surprise taking over his face before he turns on that signature glare of his. That's when I remember that conversation Spencer and Ranger had during one of our video chats.

“Jack, huh?” Ranger had said suspiciously, just before Spencer gave him a look.

“Don't start on my brother, man.”

Right. Because that whole week that Spencer was missing, he was with his brother, former drug dealer at Adamson Academy, apparent asshole whose parents pay off cops, and holder of intimate Adamson geographic knowledge. He is most definitely a suspect, as far as I'm concerned.

Of course, I'm having trouble concentrating on all of that because I'm a romance addict who can't stop thinking about Ranger's-threats-that-should-be-promises. Flour handprint? Yes, please. I've never been spanked before, I think absently, fidgeting on the loose pebbles of the pathway.

“What are you doing here?” Ranger asks as Jack approaches us, his resemblance to his younger brother startling. They have the same face, although Jack's eyes are much lighter and bluer than Spencer's penetrating turquoise gaze. Jack's hair is a dark chocolate brown that I imagine must be Spencer's natural color, and he's also a good two inches shorter and forty pounds heavier than his brother.

“I was hoping I could talk to Spence real quick?” he says, eyes darting around nervously. Ranger notices. I mean, if my oblivious ass notices, then the dark, observant eyes of my new boyfriend definitely won't miss a move as obvious as that.

“Did you ever consider using a phone to call or text? Or hell, from what I remember, you pretty much live on your laptop. Facebook messenger? Insta DM? Send him a Snap or a Tweet? Post a fucking video on TikTok? Come on, Jack, we both know you're not here just to chat.”

My brows lift up as Ranger turns fully to face Jack, like he's squaring up for a fight or something. I curl my fingers around his arm, digging my short nails into the champagne color of his blazer. Ranger glances down at me, sapphire eyes dark, and then licks his lower lip before glancing back up at Jack. After a tense moment, he curls his arm around my waist.