The Perfectionists

“Ava?” he said, looking more confused than angry. “What are you doing here?”

 

 

Ava had done some very quick thinking in the last thirty seconds, and she knew what she had to do. It was the only thing that would save them, the very thing she’d done with Nolan the night he died. She parted her lips pensively, cocking her head to one side and glancing up at him with wide eyes. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

 

From the corner of her eye, she could just make out Mackenzie, huddled behind the couch. Ava’s stomach felt like she was on a roller coaster swooping up and down, but she forced herself to keep it together. Because if Granger figured out why she was really in his house, there was no telling what he would do.

 

He set his keys down on a table by the door and turned to look at her. Something vied with the surprise on his face—it took her a moment to recognize it as lust. “By breaking into my house and standing here in the dark?”

 

Ava swallowed her fear and took a few slow, slinky steps toward him. His eyes lingered on her hips, then flitted back up to her face. “Do you want me to go?” she murmured. She put a hand on his chest, willing herself not to grimace. The very thought of touching him was repulsive to her now. But she had to.

 

“No,” Granger decided. “Definitely not. Just . . . what made you change your mind?”

 

Ava put on her best innocent-damsel pout and looked down. “You’re my teacher, Mr. Granger. This is wrong, and I was scared. But I couldn’t stay away from you. I wanted this too much.”

 

Then, bracing herself, she leaned up to kiss him. He pulled her sharply close. Her nostrils filled with his musky smell. He pressed his lips to hers, his arms tight around her. Ava could feel the strength in his muscles. It would be easy for him to hurt her, if he wanted to.

 

Then he let go of her, a strange smirk on his face. He took a few steps toward the couch. Ava was sure he’d see Mackenzie there behind it. She tensed, not sure whether to flee out the door or to throw herself on him. But then he plopped down on the couch, eyeing her appraisingly.

 

“I don’t know, Ava,” he teased. “You kind of hurt my feelings. You’re going to really have to prove you want to make it up to me.”

 

“Anything you want,” Ava said.

 

A naughty smile appeared on Granger’s lips. “Okay, then. Let’s start with your shirt.”

 

She froze. “What?”

 

Mr. Granger leaned back against the couch and gave her a nod. “You heard me. I want to see you take your clothes off. Slowly.”

 

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Ava wasn’t sure what she’d been planning—she was wildly improvising, trying to buy them some time to figure out how to escape—but she didn’t want to do this.

 

She looked down at herself. She was still wearing the button-down shirt-dress she’d worn out with Alex that night. She glanced up to see Granger, his head back against the sofa, watching her under hooded eyes. Slowly, she unfastened the top button. And then the second button.

 

“Like this?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

 

He sat forward suddenly, his eyes going wide. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Like that.”

 

She thought about the other girls watching her do this from the corners and felt sick to her stomach. This isn’t me, she wanted to say. But she didn’t have any choice. One by one, button by button, she unfastened the front of her dress. She slid one shoulder free so it was bare. Mr. Granger had a hungry leer on his face, his eyes glittering in the half-light.

 

She shrugged off the dress and stood in her bra and panties, feeling utterly humiliated. He stood up and stepped closer to her, resting his hands on her hips. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning toward her for a kiss. She put her finger up to block his lips.

 

“Now can I make a request?” Ava asked, her heart pumping fast again. “I want you to take a hot, steamy shower and get clean for me,” she asked. “I want this to be perfect.”

 

A greedy smile spread across Granger’s face. “Sure. Want to join me?”

 

“I would,” Ava murmured, looking at him from under her eyelashes. “But I have something special I need to prepare while you’re in the shower.”

 

His eyes lit up. He looked up and down her body one last time. Then he let go of her and went into the bathroom. Turned on the light. Shut the door.

 

Ava strained to listen. The moment she heard the water hit tile, she hissed to her friends, “Get out of here! Hurry!”

 

Mackenzie popped up from behind the couch. “Ava, that was . . .”

 

“Don’t,” Ava pleaded, pulling her dress back on and grabbing her shoes. “I feel so disgusting.”

 

“I was going to say amazing,” Mac said.

 

The others came out from where they’d been hiding, faces pale and drawn.

 

“You just saved our asses,” Caitlin whispered.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Julie said. “We don’t have much time.”

 

Sara Shepard's books