The whole school would know.

I'd be the second girl ever at that school, and the only one still living.

No thank you.

Sliding off the stool, I cover my face briefly with one hand and glance to the right.

“Bathroom?” I mouth, and Jeff's face crinkles up as he points me in the right direction. Slinking off, I duck through an archway and into a room full of used books. The smell is even better in here, and helps relieve some of my anxiety as I duck into the bathroom, and then lock the door behind me.

I'll just wait in here until Church gets his coffee and leaves, right?

But crap, that was close. So close. Disturbingly close.

Pushing off from the wall, I look at myself in the mirror, and I try to decide if the jerk would even recognize me. Do I look different enough?

“No point in testing that theory,” I mumble, hiking up my dress to pee, and then washing my hands. I figure that's plenty of time to order a simple drink and leave.

Except when I creep up to the arch and peek through it, I find Church sitting at the counter, sipping his drink and … looking through my stack of books. Now I'm just irritated. How dare he put his bullying fingers on my damn book?! I'm just fuming now, but even the assault on my poor, beautiful hardcover won't get me to face him.

“Do you want me to ring up those books for you?” Jeff asks, appearing beside me and making me jump. I glance over at him, putting a hand to my chest. “I'm guessing you don't want to sit next to Church Montague? That's okay. Most people don't.”

“Really? You know him?” I ask, and Jeff nods, his face darkening as a frown creases his full lips. He glances toward the row of books on his left, like he can see straight through them.

“Everyone knows Church Montague. His family owns this entire town, save a few holdouts on Main Street—including this one.” Jeff turns his gaze back to me. “His father's threatened us with all sorts of legal action if we don't sell, but this store is my parents' dream. They've lived in Nutmeg their whole life.”

Nutmeg. Right. I'd forgotten that was the name of this little town. It's sort of … hilarious. From Santa Cruz, California to … Nutmeg, Connecticut. Bleh.

“What a dick move,” I whisper, ducking behind Jeff when Church turns his head in our direction. I've left my damn purse and keys on the counter, too. Good thing we are in Nutmeg, Middle-of-Nowhere because they haven't been stolen yet. “But yes, if you wouldn’t mind ringing me up and bringing the books in here …” I glance around for an escape route, but there isn’t one.

Jeff takes pity on me and offers up a small smile.

“Follow me, and I’ll take you out the employee exit.” He weaves his way through towering stacks of books and leads me out to the back patio. Then he disappears back inside and returns with my purse, and a paper bag full of my treasures. “I just added it to your tab. We’ll worry about it next time you come in,” he tells me, and the way he says next time makes me smile.

“Thank you,” I tell him earnestly, offering up a bright smile as I hook the strap of my purse on one shoulder, and then head around the side of the building.

As soon as I round the corner … I bump right into the twins.

Literally.

“Excuse me,” I start, and then I realize that they’re linking their arms with mine and glaring down at me with bright green eyes. “Ehhhhh?!” The sound escapes me as my jaw drops open and the two assholes smile at me.

“Hello, Charlotte,” they say, and then they drag me into the building next door and slam the door behind us.

“What the hell do you want with me?” I whisper as the boys push my back up against the door. I can barely see them in the dusty yellow light leaking through the shutters. Pretty sure we're in a diner of some sort, but maybe I'm only thinking that because of the black and white checkered floor?

“Sneaky, sneaky, Charlotte,” they purr in unison, exchanging a glance, and then leaning in so close to me that I'm sure they can smell my lemon meringue body splash.

“You're a liar, aren't you, Chuck?” Micah asks, and his brother cocks a brow at me.

“I told you,” his twin drawls, and the two of them end up glaring at one another with glittering emerald eyes. “And I was right: admit it.”

Micah scowls and looks back at me, releasing my arm and taking a step back, so he can look me over from head to toe. There's no appreciative gleam in his eye, and I can't decide if that makes me happy … or if it annoys me to no end. I dressed up for today. Back home, I'd be garnering all sorts of compliments.

“Told him what?” I ask, looking at Tobias. He has a certain expression on his face that's impossible to read, slightly softened but definitely interested. My cheeks flush, and I curl my hand around the strap of my purse.

“That you were a girl,” Tobias continues, glancing over at his brother. He looks back at me, and the flush in my cheeks goes from happy pink to irritated red. Or at least, that's how it feels.

“How did you know?” I whisper, wondering if it wouldn't be possible to lie and say I'm dressed in drag. Pretty sure they'd call bullshit on that. Besides, how do they know my real name?

“When we tickled you.” Tobias glances up at his brother, and then down at me again. “Oh, and when Spencer said you had a hot make-out session in the pantry, and that he was questioning his sexuality. He's definitely not gay.”

“He's not even bi,” Micah spits, crossing his arms over his chest. The boys are dressed in white wife beaters with subtle blue stripes, and long khaki pants over brown boots. They're even wearing matching winter jackets, slung loose over their arms and hanging halfway down their backs, so that I can see their bare shoulders. They've got matching rose tattoos. How nice.

“Definitely not bi,” Tobias replies with a sigh and a shake of his head, reaching up to run his fingers through his sandy orange hair. “But seriously, why are you pretending to be a boy? Not that I care, but—”

“He cares. He thinks you're a liar,” Micah replies, and Tobias shoots him a nasty look.

“I do not.”

“You do so.” Micah leans in toward his brother and the two of them scowl ferociously at one another while I blink and my eyes become adjusted to the shadowed darkness. We definitely are in a café, standing near a side door in the kitchen area. Beyond that, there are booths upholstered in hot pink vinyl, tables with shiny chrome detailing, and a jukebox that looks like it's straight out of the 1950s.

“How did you know my name?” I ask, and both twins turn back to me. Tobias' scowl disappears, but Micah keeps his firmly in place.

“You told Jeff,” they both say in unison. And then Tobias is scowling again, too. “Jeff is not our favorite person in the world.” They drawl this last part and then exchange another glance before turning back to me. “You shouldn't hang out with Jeff.”

“Yeah, well,” I sputter, because I really hate being told what to do. And on top of that, I feel exposed and nervous and frustrated. “Forget about Jeff for a minute … who are you going to tell?” The words come out of me in a whisper, and the boys exchange another long look.