“I don't know, just some guy,” I choke out, reaching up to curl my fingers around his wrist. As soon as I touch him, his eyes widen, and he pushes me back. I stumble, but I manage to keep my feet. “Why does it matter?”

“Don't go digging into shit you don't understand,” Ranger whispers, and then he's storming past me and out the bathroom door. It slams shut behind him, and I take in the grim faces of the other four boys. There's this darkness in the air that I don't like.

“What did I do?” I say, and my voice echoes in the fancy marble bathroom.

“You should go.” Church is staring at me with a flat gaze that makes my skin crawl.

For a split-second there, I almost protest, just out of natural orneriness. The twins don't give me a chance, stepping forward and grabbing me by either arm. They unceremoniously toss me onto my ass, their green eyes dark as they look down at me, rubbing my lower back and cursing.

“What the hell is going on here?” I snap, and the two of them exchange a look.

“Only idiots talk shit about Ranger’s sister, Chuck,” they reply, sticking their tongues out at me and flipping me off at the same time. The bathroom door is slammed in my face, and I'm left to sit alone in the dark to contemplate.

The things my mind comes up with … are far from pleasant.

But Ranger’s sister? Interesting …

The next day, I find myself back in the library, digging through all the old yearbooks as I look for any sign of another Woodruff attending Adamson Academy. The only person I can find however is an Eric Woodruff from almost two decades earlier than the missing girl.

“Are you back here slinking around again?” Mr. Dave asks me, appearing like a shadow at the end of the aisle. I jump, a cold chill traveling down my spine as I clutch Eric’s yearbook against my chest. I'm going to take pictures of the pages with my phone. Why, I'm not exactly sure. Something inside of me says that I should just walk away and leave this whole thing alone.

But … I don't like secrets, especially ones that make everyone else so damn nervous. What are they hiding and why are they hiding it? I thought I was the first girl to attend Adamson, and now I find out that's all a lie. Only … there's no trace of the last girl anywhere. Not in the old yearbooks, not even online.

Last night, I spent hours stalking Ranger's social media, looking through his family and friends, and I couldn't find one mention of a sister anywhere. There's something so wrong about that. Like, how can a person disappear so completely?

“I'm just doing some research for a paper,” I reply, staring the man's dark gaze down without flinching. “I just need another five minutes or so to make notes, and I'll be out of your hair.”

“Hmm. Just remember we close in twenty minutes,” he barks at me, and I jump. I'm not the only student in the library staring at the librarian in a sheer panic. He's freaking terrifying. A few of the other boys look down and bury themselves in their work for fear of catching his attention.

I nod, and he disappears again, leaving me enough time to take pictures of the pages with my phone. I grab some shots of the years before and after the missing Woodruff girl’s graduating class. Maybe if I can find some of them on Facebook or something, they’ll have more information. Surely some of them knew her, and maybe even have their own copy of the yearbook.

Later that night, when I head back to the girls' dormitory, I compare the photos of Eric Woodruff to the girl in the picture.

They have the same dark hair, same sapphire eyes, and high cheekbones. Now that I'm looking for it, it's easy to see that Ranger's related to the other two. Based on my online snooping, it seems Eric Woodruff now goes by his mother’s last name Warren, following some sort of scandal. Apparently, he’s some bigshot business mogul with shady political ties—he’s also Ranger’s dad, though you wouldn’t know it at first. It doesn’t appear they have much to do with one another.

On my way back to the boys’ dorm that night, I hear chatter in the woods again, and find Spencer and his buddies counting out money. I watch them briefly from between the trees, but I'm not interested in getting involved in whatever crap they've got going on. Looks like they’re selling weed, but what do I care? Pot should be legal anyway; it is in California.

Tiptoeing back through the trees, I end up running right into the silver-haired dickwad on the path. He's got his arms crossed over his chest, clearly waiting for me.

“How did you get over here so quick?” I whisper, and he shrugs.

“My brother taught me everything he knew about these woods, long before I ever enrolled in this school. Don't think there's a place on this campus that I'm not fully aware of. I know you've got your little hidey-hole in the abandoned dorm.”

My throat tightens up, and I have to swallow past a lump.

Spencer's turquoise eyes glitter in the dark like a cat's as he makes his way over to me, putting his forearm on the tree trunk above my head. I can smell him now, this woody warmth that's as rough as it is cultured. Provocative. Salivating. Ugh.

“There's something off about you,” Spencer says, looking down at me with that penetrating gaze of his. “I mean something other than the off-putting bravado you try so hard for.”

I scoff, and go to duck under his arm when he grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me back against the tree, knocking the breath out of me. Spencer leans in and studies my face, taking in my uneven breathing, and my pounding heart with interest. “I'm going to figure out what it is, asshole. Mark my words, Chuck: whatever you're hiding, I will sniff it out.”

“You can fucking try,” I snap back, knowing it's probably a bad idea to piss this guy off when we're all alone in the dark with two of his cronies within earshot. “But I'm not hiding anything worth knowing. Why don't you tell me why everyone freaked out when I brought up Ranger's sister?”

Spencer's eyes narrow to slits, and he leans in close to me, exhaling sharply and stirring my hair. The motion makes me shiver, and I feel my nipples hardening to points beneath the tight wrap of my bindings. My breasts are near desperate for freedom at this point. I can almost imagine Spencer sliding my jacket off, fingers pulling the edge of the bandage loose as he turns me around in a circle and …

His eyes widen slightly, and a smug, male chuckle escapes his beautiful lips. Before I can figure out the source of it, Spencer's grabbing me by the chin and tilting my face up to his, a smirk working its way across his mouth. He's limned in moonlight, making his ash-colored hair glow with silver sparkles.

“It all makes sense now,” he breathes, his mouth far too close to mine for comfort. I try to pull away, but he's got a hard grip on my right arm, fingers digging into my flesh. “I don't know how I didn't see it before; it's too obvious.”

My turn to have my eyes widen, my heart pound. No. He knows my secret. He knows. He freaking knows. I open my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep it a secret, when he continues talking.

“You're gay, aren't you, Chuck?” he asks, and my lips part in surprise. Spencer trails his fingertips down the side of my throat, and I smack his hand away just before he gets to my chest. I have a feeling that if he touches me there, he'll know.