If he didn’t, I can call the hotel and ask if someone turned in a ring. There are still good people in this world who would turn in a lost item. I’m sure of it.
My steps are hurried as I run across the slick sidewalk. It rained for the better part of the weekend and some of the snow still remains, though now it’s slushy and dark with debris and dirt. Not fluffy and white like it is when it first falls. When it feels magical and wondrous.
No, now it’s just ugly. The air is cold and damp, the sky a dark, steely gray. There aren’t many people out this early, so it’s easy for me to make my way to the main building. When I see the entrance, no one is lingering in front of it, not even Crew’s friends. I trudge my way up the steps, going just inside and waiting by the door, so I can see his approach.
We texted briefly last night, but I could tell he was tired. I was too. Plus, I don’t want to come across as too clingy.
Oh my God, I sound like every other girl I know who’s had sex and then wants to play it cool. Like it’s no big deal. And the sex thing isn’t what’s bothering me today. No, it’s the fact that I lost my ring and I’m scared of my father’s reaction.
He’s going to be mad. I just know it.
Five minutes pass and there’s still no sign of Crew. I send him a text, asking where he’s at, but he doesn’t respond.
He’s driving me out of my mind with worry.
Finally, I spot him, walking with his friends toward the building, Crew standing in the middle. I walk outside, barely able to repress the smile that wants to appear when I note the way his gaze lights up when he first sees me.
How he tamps it down so his friends won’t notice.
Well. That’s disappointing. Though it’s originally what I wanted, so I can’t complain.
Chewing on my lower lip, I wait until he’s closer to say something.
“Hi, Crew.” I glance over at his friends. “Ezra. Malcolm.”
They both nod and murmur their greetings, Crew watching me with the slightest frown.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask him.
“Sure.”
“Privately?” I send a pointed look in Ezra and Malcolm’s direction.
“Yeah, definitely.”
Crew lets me take his arm and we walk down the hall, hiding away in the abandoned classroom he dragged me into that one time, when he kissed me so ferociously. Like a jealous lover.
Once the door is shut, Crew is on me, his hands cradling my cheeks, his mouth landing on mine. He devours me like a starving man, consuming me completely.
I eventually push him away, needing a clear head, hating how he frowns, worry crossing his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I stand up straighter, my tone somber. “I lost something this weekend.”
His smirk surprises me. “You sure did.”
My cheeks burn. “Stop.”
“What did you lose?”
“My ring. The one my father gave me. He’s going to be so mad if it’s gone. It belonged to my grandmother. It was her engagement ring, and it’s really special to him. That’s why he gave it to me,” I explain, my head starting to hurt.
I will never forgive myself if I lost it for good.
“I know where it is,” Crew says, calm as ever.
Relief floods me, though not enough to ease the fresh headache. “Oh my God, really? Where is it? Can you give it to me?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I can’t.”
I blink at him. “Why not?”
“Because.” He unzips his jacket and reaches for the knotted tie at his neck, loosening it so he can then unbutton his shirt.
I’m so confused. “What are you do—”
The rest of the word sticks in my throat when he pulls out a chain that’s hanging around his neck, my ring dangling from it.
My gaze meets his, surprise coursing through me. “Why are you wearing it?”
“It belongs to me now.” His expression is grim.
“What?” Okay, he’s really making no sense. “It’s mine, Crew. It belongs to my family. My father gave me that ring.”
“And I’m taking it. Because I took you.” He glances down, sliding his finger through the ring, though it barely fits. “This is mine, just like you are.”
I blink at him, startled by his declaration. The tiniest bit thrilled by it too. “Crew…”
“Don’t argue with me, Birdy. You’re mine.” He kisses me fiercely. “You don’t belong to him anymore.”
The him he’s referring to is my father.
Crew slips his fingers beneath my chin, his thumb rubbing. “You belong to me,” he whispers.
After we kiss for far too long in the darkened classroom, we slip back into the hall, me leaving the room first and Crew waiting a few minutes before he followed after me. I’m already in English by the time he appears, his smile smug as he struts in and slips into the desk directly behind mine.
Fig is nowhere to be found, which is extremely unusual.
Maybe he finally got in trouble and that’s why he isn’t here.
I turn in my seat to talk to Crew. “Did you turn in your paper by midnight?”
It was due online by the end of the day yesterday.
“Yep.” He nods. “I even wrote it last night.”
“Crew!” I can’t help but chastise him for waiting so long.
He shrugs. “At least it’s done.”
“Are you ready for the final?” His casual attitude about grades and assignments is mind-blowing to me, especially because of how well he does.
“Do you think we’re actually going to have one?” He nods his head toward Fig’s empty desk.
“I don’t know. Even if he’s not here, I’d think they would still give us the final.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs again, like it’s no big deal.
I want to ask him about the possible arrest. What his suspicions might be on where Fig is. But I don’t want to say anything he told me in private that someone else might hear, so I keep my mouth shut.
It’s easier that way.
Mr. Figueroa finally shows up right as the final bell rings, seemingly frazzled. He drops his book bag on top of his desk, scanning the room, his gaze settling on me for a beat too long.
Then I realize he’s actually looking at Crew sitting directly behind me.
Fig clears his throat. “Sorry I’m late. Give me a few and then we’ll start the final.”
The class erupts in whispered conversation, and I can feel a prickle between my shoulder blades. Crew is watching me.
I slowly turn toward him, once again, the weight of someone else’s stare heavy upon me. I barely flicker my gaze in his direction, correct in my assumption.
Fig is watching us, his lip curled into a faint sneer. He glances down at his desk when I catch him, but it’s too late. I saw the disgust on his face. He really can’t stand the idea of me with Crew.
“He doesn’t like seeing me talk to you,” I whisper.
“Well, that’s too fucking bad.” Crew puts a possessive hand on my arm, claiming me in front of Fig.
“Crew…”
“No, don’t tell me to stop. And don’t make excuses for him either.” Crew lowers his voice, his intense gaze meeting mine. “If we’re lucky, his ass is about to get arrested. Maybe even today. I thought they were going to do it over the weekend. He needs to know he can’t come around you anymore. He even looks in your direction and I don’t like it? I’m kicking his ass.”
I’m gaping at him, shocked by the words he’s saying. “Are you serious?”
“I protect what’s mine,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing with anger.
Everything inside me melts at the way he said that. The look on his face, how he’s touching me. The fact that he’s wearing my ring around his neck. His behavior is so archaic and sexist, yet a part of me loves it.
That he believes I belong to him.
There’s a rapid-fire knock on the closed classroom door, and just as Figueroa stands to answer it, Headmaster Matthews strides inside, his gaze frantic when he scans the classroom before he says, “We need you in the office, Mr. Figueroa. Right away.”
Fig stands, swallowing visibly. I pull away from Crew’s grip, facing the front of the classroom, my gaze going to the empty seat beside me.
Maggie isn’t in class. That’s probably a good thing.