Page 1 of Tell Me Why
CHAPTERONE
Eve - Three Months Ago
Every Tuesdayand Thursday at two-fifty in the afternoon, I come face to face with the devil. Well, actually, there arefourdevils that rule Exeter University West, known as the Sacred Sons—Roman Rush, Jackson McKnight, Lucas West, and his twin, Christian West.
But onlyoneof those devils is in my Abnormal Psychology class.
I shift in the stiff auditorium chair, my laptop perched on the microscopic desk in front of me. My heart hammers against my ribs. Any minute, he’s going to walk through the door. Any. Minute.
Ihatethat I do this—watch the door with my breath held for a bi-weekly glimpse of the devil incarnate. Heisbeautiful, though. I’ll give him that. Christian West has a face card thatneverdeclines. Unfortunately.
His most stunning feature, though, are those sharp blue eyes that cut through me like a blade.One time,that gaze fell on me, and in the span of half a second, they threatened to slice through every defense I’ve ever built.
And that swagger.Damn.It’s not just privilege. It’s the swagger of someone who knows they can annihilate you with little more than a text.
He and the other Sacred Sons rule this campus through their secret society, the Burning Crown. They’re venerated here. Exulted. Untouchable.
But I know who theyreallyare. I know exactly what lurks behind those pretty-boy faces. Deformed hearts and twisted morals. I know, because, for my entire life, that’s what I’ve been told.
A couple of minutes before class starts, Professor Cannon walks in, sets his shoulder bag down on the desk, and pulls out a stack of papers. Then he picks up a dry-erase marker and starts scribbling on the whiteboard—assessment of DSM-based psychopathology.
Capping the pen, he turns to the class, pushing his mess of dark hair away from his aging face. “Okay, let’s get started. We have a lot of material to get through today. Open your textbooks to…” He glances down at his notes. “Chapter three, page 134.”
I release a relieved breath as I open the textbook on my laptop and find the correct chapter. If Christian hasn’t shown up by now, then he probably won’t. And thank God. Small miracles.
Fifteen minutes into class, though, the door opens, and the devil himself saunters through it. Every girl in the lecture hall sits up straighter, their attention focused on Christian as he strides across the room with effortless confidence.
Fuck.
RIP to my focus. The lecture might as well be in another language now.
I watch, transfixed, as he moves across the room with predatory grace. If it were anyone else, they’d be mortified and apologetic for disrupting class. Not Christian. He owns the space and everyone in it. Including Professor Cannon, who says nothing as Christian climbs the auditorium stairs and glances around for an empty seat.
There’s one right next to me, because…of course there is. But there are others, too, and I pray with everything in my soul that he takes one of those.
Please don’t sit next to me. Please don’t sit next to me. Please don’t sit next to me.
I sink lower into my chair and pretend to read something on my computer, so I don’t make eye contact, even accidentally. I’m convinced that he’s some kind of soul-snatcher. Make eye contact, and that’s it. Your soul is no longer your own. All the Sacred Sons have that ability, I hear.
Seconds later, he’s standing in the aisle next to me, his muscular, jean-clad thigh brushing against my arm. I flinch but manage to keep my eyes on my laptop.
“I need to get by,” he says to me, his voice deep and gravelly like he just woke up.
Without glancing up, I pull my laptop against my chest and move my legs to the side awkwardly, creating just enough space for him to get by. He skirts past and drops into the chair next to me.Goddamn.He smells like soap and pine with a smoky undertone, and it’s all I can focus on as I resituate myself.
Professor Cannon hasn’t skipped a beat. He’s talking about something—I don’t even know what—when Christian leans over like he’s going to ask me a question. I shift away from him, glancing over my slightly raised shoulder like he has the plague. I know for a fact that my face is twisted in disgust, but I can’t help it. If he notices, he doesn’t react.
“Hey,” he whispers. “What page are we on?”
I’ve been at Exeter University West for six months now, and Christian hasneverspoken to me—none of the Sacred Sons have—which is a serious accomplishment for me, considering the Sacred Sons treat this campus like their own personal hunting grounds. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had a spreadsheet listing the name, age, and weight of every girl enrolled here, complete with their campus photo. There isn’t a female on campus they don’t know about, except for me. And I need to keep it that way.
Ignoring him, I straighten in my seat and refocus on my laptop.
“Hey.” Christian grabs my wrist. “I’m talking to you.”
I blink down at his hand, and I don’t know what happens, but something comes over me. All the anger I’ve managed to bury deep,deepdown rushes to the surface, and I slide out of my seat. I expect him to realize he’s fucked up and let go. He doesn’t. So I’m forced to yank my wrist out of his hand. “Don’teverfucking touch me,” I hiss.
He doesn’t even have the decency to look shocked or confused by my outburst. Instead, he leans back, the corners of his full mouth lifting into a lazy smile, like he knows something I don’t...
