“I haven’t applied for any student loans yet,” I say, and the four boys still sitting around the table give me looks. “What? I mean, just because we’re dating, I don’t expect you to—”

“We’re paying for it,” the twins say together, taking bites of their pie and then holding their forks up in an X, effectively cutting me off from what I was about to say. “Don’t argue with us. It’s happening.”

“You really think I’d sit by and watch you rack up student loans like that?” Spencer asks, looking over at me. “What sort of asshole do you take me for?”

“I need a minute,” I say, holding back tears as I slip under the table and crawl out the other side, my shoes squeaking on the floor as I run outside and throw my back against the sun-warmed wall next to the front door. “Yes!” My voice echoes down the street and several people turn to look at me. I don’t care though. The only thing I care about right now is reveling in this moment. It’s hard to say how many strings the guys pulled behind the scenes—because Bornstead U is a seriously competitive university—but I did work really hard to turn things around. I’ve got A’s in all my classes currently. First time this has ever happened for me.

I do a ridiculous little jig for the guys’ enjoyment, and then throw open the doors to the diner, my chest swollen with pride.

“I’m a future college student,” I tell some random Adamson students near the door. I don’t really know who they are, but the way they murmur Student Council lackey under their breaths shows that they know who I am. When all four of the boys at my table turn to look at them, the students change their tune real fast.

“Go check on your milkshake-laden boyfriend, college student,” Ranger says, and I bounce over to the unisex bathroom, pushing in the door to find Church cleaning chocolate off of his crotch with a wet rag.

“Do you need help with that?” I ask, but when I reach to take it from him, Church just leans in and kisses me hard on the mouth.

“Please don’t. I’ll get a hard-on, and then we’ll end up doing it in this bathroom, and Merinda will never forgive us.”

My cheeks flush.

Last night, Church and I may or may not have gone at it again in our dorm room. It became a bit of a game to try to stop groaning and moving when Nathan popped by for the nightly room checks. Pretty sure he knew what we were doing, but screw him. He’s just as shady and close-mouthed as the asshole librarian.

“Your parents … they don’t care if the shops here make any profit, do they?” I ask, and Church looks up with a smile, tossing the rag into the sink. His champagne colored slacks are soaked in the crotch, and it really, really looks like he peed himself, but since this is all my fault, I decide not to say anything.

“They don’t.”

“Because …” I lead, gesturing with my hand for him to continue the story.

“Because they’re both billionaires in their own right?” he suggests, and I give him a look. “Because they met and fell in love in Nutmeg, Chuck. My mother went to Everly and my father to Adamson. They kept seeing each other at all the coed events—the Halloween party, the Valentine’s Day dance, the bake-off. This town is the setting for their love story; they want it preserved.”

“That’s the reason they want to own everything?” I choke out, and Church sighs, like his parents are the most ridiculous people on the planet.

“That’s the gist of it, yes. They let the shop owners run their shops the way they always have, they pay them fair salaries, and they don’t care if the store is in the red. That’s why I’ve never asked them to give the diner back to Merinda. I know this place wasn’t making any money before we bought it.”

“And by fair salary …” I start, and Church smirks.

“Merinda drives a Beemer, Chuck,” he says, and I snort. Am I that obvious? I mean, socioeconomic inequalities really bother me, but that’s not the point. Ugh. Did I just say socioeconomic inside my own head? I wouldn’t have even been able to spell that word back in Santa Cruz, let alone use it in an independent thought.

“Well, shit, maybe the other shop owners want to sell their places, but can’t.”

“Because of the tunnels,” Church agrees. “The Fellowship doesn’t want my parents to get ahold of those buildings, just in case.”

“So that means there really must be something down there worth hiding, huh?” I ask, and Church nods, just once, but the gleam in his eye … that scares the crap out of me a little.

No way in hell is my future husband going down in those tunnels, with or without my other, you know, future husbands.

Not over my dead body.

Oh. Ow. Ouch.

Bad metaphor.

Over my living body.

They’re not going into those fucking tunnels over my very much still alive body.

Not a chance.

Winter break rolls around, bringing with it my eighteenth birthday. All the boys have already had theirs, but none of them particularly cared to make a big deal out of it. We cooked and baked together, had little parties with candles in the Culinary Club dining room. And I put together small but thoughtful gifts for each boy. Spencer, Ranger, Tobias, and Micah got sex on their birthdays, but poor Church didn’t since we hadn’t quite gotten to that stage of our relationship yet.

Next year though, it’s on.

“Happy birthday, Charlotte,” Dad says at breakfast that morning. He asked me to come up for breakfast—just me—so we could talk. He even made French toast and scrambled eggs, adding bottles of hot sauce and ketchup next to the maple syrup. My gift is a beautiful frame with my acceptance letter to Bornstead U inside, printed on cardstock, the words embossed in navy blue. Yep, that’s a definite gift from the headmaster right there.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling and then setting my fork down next to my plate. “Pretty sure neither of us thought I’d live to see this day, huh?” I joke, and Dad’s face pales to an awful ashen shade. “I just meant, I thought you might kill me … like, metaphorically speaking. Also, my bad, I shouldn’t have made a death joke with a cult on the loose.”

“Charlotte,” he snaps, eyes darting to the door. To be fair, he has a reason to be nervous.

Last night, I sat down and wrote out a list of all the minor but creepy incidents I could remember from last year.

1. that day the window above the sink was open and I heard rustling in the bushes

2. the large dark figure on Halloween—Mr. Murphy insists this wasn’t him

3. the candle wax in the girls’ dorm and the missing Jenica picture

4. the strange sounds in the foliage outside the girls’ dorm

5. the creaking sound of footsteps in the upstairs of the girls’ dorm—although this easily could’ve been Ranger

It’s very clear that the Fellowship’s initiates have been stalking me for quite some time.

Dad exhales sharply, reaching up to rub at his temples. He seems to realize what he’s doing, forcing his hands into his lap and making himself smile at me.

“Your mother sent some gifts as well. I put them upstairs on your bed.”