A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(31)

Crew nods, his expression grim. “Then he sells it to his friends.”

A gasp leaves me. “What? Why?”

“For beat-off material? Come on, Birdy. You don’t think every guy in this place would love to see you on your knees for someone?” The look he gives me makes me think he might want to see me in such a—vulnerable position as well. “If Larsen was able to capture that, he’d be the hero of Lancaster Prep.”

“That is so—disgusting.” I stare down at my desk. Crew’s words are on repeat in my brain. I don’t know if I believe him. He thinks the worst of everyone. I’ve never heard of Larsen doing anything like that before. While I make sure I’m not involved in any scandalous gossip, I do occasionally hear tidbits, and that is one story I’ve never come across.

Ever.

“Watch out for him,” Crew says, his tone ominous. “I’ve warned you.”

Skov comes into class, just before the bell rings, launching straight into taking attendance. I sit there lost in thought, hating how Crew ruined my upcoming Saturday night dinner with a few choice words.

He has a way of doing that. Ruining my life.

Dramatic but true.

When Skov releases us to continue working on our project with our partners, I watch as Crew scoots his desk and chair closer to mine, which surprises me. Why is he coming closer?

I don’t want him to. I’d rather he keeps his distance. Having him so close makes me uncomfortable—and not in a bad way. Which isn’t good.

Not at all.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” I start.

“And?”

“I don’t believe it.”

An exasperated sigh leaves him. “Why am I not surprised.”

“He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.”

“Isn’t that how it always starts? ‘Oh, he was the nicest guy. I can’t believe he’s a serial killer.’” The look Crew sends me almost makes me laugh. “Get real, Birdy.”

“I just think I would’ve heard about this from other girls. Ones who’ve been—recorded by him, you know?” I make a disgusted face at the thought of it happening—and what I would do if it actually happened to me.

Talk about humiliating. I’d never recover from it.

“You really think any of them actually talk about it? They’d rather forget the moment ever existed. And if they were to say something to you, you’d probably give them a nice little speech about their bad choices,” Crew says.

My heart aches, only because what he says is, unfortunately, true.

I’ve given plenty of lectures in my time to girls who’ve made bad decisions. No wonder people think I’m judgmental.

“I probably should stop doing that,” I admit, my voice soft.

Crew leans in closer, his shoulder brushing mine, making me tingle. “Stop doing what?”

“Being so judgmental all the time.” I lift my gaze to his. “You were right. So was everyone else who told me that.”

“Aw, little birdy is learning something from the project.” He reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m proud of you.”

My skin warms from his touch and I try to push past the foreign feeling. He shouldn’t say words like that either.

I might end up liking them too much.

“Have you learned anything about yourself yet?” I ask hopefully, trying to ignore the swarm of butterflies taking flight in my stomach from him touching me.

“I learned that you think I’m an asshole.”

I frown. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to. I can just tell.”

I’ve been told I wear all of my emotions plainly on my face…

“You also think I act like I own the school.”

“Um, you literally do.”

“My family does,” he corrects.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

“You’re sassy today, Bird.”

“When you push yourself into my personal business, it makes me sassy.” I tap my pencil against my notebook. “Are we going to actually work on this project today?”

“Yeah. Let’s do it.” He leans back in his chair, his gaze still on me. “I want to interview you.”

Unease sweeps over me, setting me immediately on edge. “How about I interview you instead?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I came up with a few questions last night. Things I’d love to know about you.”

Why do his words sound more like a threat? “Trust me. I’m not going to reveal everything about myself to you.”

“I thought that was the point of this project.”

“You’re supposed to be analyzing me. Trying to figure me out versus me just giving you all the information you want,” I remind him.

“You always have a way of making everything extra difficult, don’t you.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.

His words sting and I hate that. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

Crew grabs his phone and opens it to the notes section, scanning whatever he wrote there, his brows drawn together. I take the opportunity to stare at him, taking in his chiseled features. The sharp jawline and soft lips. The strong nose and angled cheekbones. The thick brows and icy blue eyes. His face is like a work of art, something you’d find in a painting from hundreds of years ago. A callous aristocrat, clad in tights that showed off his muscular legs, a heavy velvet coat to show off his opulent wealth.