"Where are you taking me?" Dante asked.
"Far away from those leeches."
"Well, aren't you nice."
"Thank you."
I sighed. "I have detention."
"How awful," he cooed, dripping with fake sympathy.
"I know. I don't want to go alone, so you're coming with me." I shot him a grin over my shoulder. "Come on, partner in crime." I nudged his arm. "See what I did there?"
He rolled his eyes. "Aren't you funny."
"I know." I stopped in front of my next class and turned to him. "Thanks for walking me, handsome."
His cheeks flushed. Bright red. Cute.
I walked into class, smiling to myself—until it hit me.
Oh shoot. My books. I left them. In my locker. Of course I did.
I could go get them, but... yeah, no.
First of all, running? Not happening.
Second—the teacher's already here, and if I get one more tardy, I might just spontaneously combust.
Bookless it is.
I slumped into my seat and pulled out… absolutely nothing. Because I had absolutely nothing.
The teacher glanced my way but said nothing. Small blessings.
I leaned back, resting my chin on my hand as I scanned the room. Miss Penrose looked nice today. Penrose is such a weird name though. But the nicknames? Kinda cute. Pen and Rose had a baby—Penrose.
She had to have been bullied for that. "Do you have a pen? Penrose." I giggled out loud.
"Is there something funny?" Miss Penrose asked.
"Nothing, Miss Pen." I smiled. She raised a brow but didn't press it.
I started doodling in my notebook until class finally ended. Yay.
Now: Find Dante.
I pulled out my phone and called him.
"Hi, hot stuff," I said when he answered.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Locker."
"The audacity. You should've waited for me outside of class." I groaned and hung up.
I marched toward our locker. Dante was leaning against it, scrolling on his phone like he didn't have a care in the world.
"How was class?" he asked as I walked up.
"Bad. I left my books in my locker."
"You could've just texted me to bring them."
I stared at him. "...Well, thanks for nothing." I gave him a light shove and turned to open my locker.
"I'll see you after," I said over my shoulder.
"And why would we be seeing each other?" he called after me.
"Detention. Duh."
---
I paused outside the detention room. "Alright, partner in crime. Time to face the consequences of my actions."
I flopped into the chair like I was auditioning for the role of Most Emotionally Stable. Spoiler: I didn't get the role. I sat beside Dante, he didn't sit beside me—I sat beside him. Subtle difference. It's called commitment.
Across the room, a girl let out a loud huff.
I tilted my head. I knew her—not her name, just her face. She was the girl who orbited Dante like a confused moth. Lip gloss and fake laughs. She looked at me like I'd just licked her snack.
I smiled sweetly, resting my chin on my hand. "Is she always here?"
"She followed me in," he said flatly, not even looking at her.
"Wow. You must really like a guy to willingly walk into detention for him."
The teacher hadn't even looked up from his desk. I envied that level of checked-out.
"You should really let me help," I whispered. "I already watched you do it. The hard part's over."
He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. "Why am I here again?"
"Emotional support. And moral corruption."
He turned slowly toward me, eyes dark and unreadable. "That's not a thing normal people would say."
"I'm not normal people."
He smirked—barely. But it counted.
Across the room, Miss Glossy sighed. Again. Dramatically.
I turned and waved. "Hi. Love the fumes you're radiating."
Dante's smirk twitched a little deeper. He didn't laugh, but his eyes stayed on me just a second longer than normal.
Long enough for it to feel like heat.
"You should let me help," I whispered, leaning in like I was about to tell him a secret.
"With what?"
"Killing. Duh." I rolled my eyes.
He didn't move. Didn't look at me. But his hand stilled on the desk.
I smiled wider. "You think I don't know, but I do. You think I'm not serious, but I am."
He blinked.
"I've seen the look in your eyes," I said. "The same one in mine. Like the world's a puzzle that'd be prettier with a few pieces missing."
"I work alone," he said quietly.
"Well, I don't. So here we are."
"You don't know what I've done."
"I kinda do. You do know you're in the news, right?"
"That's reckless. You want to be in the news too?"
"Thank you."
He finally turned his head. Just a fraction. Just enough to give me that dead-eyed, don't-get-close stare.
I scooted closer anyway. "Come on. We'd make a good team. Brains. Beauty. Blunt force trauma."
"You're joking."
I tilted my head. "Am I?"
Silence stretched between us. The air turned heavy. That girl across the room coughed awkwardly, like she could feel it too.
"People are liabilities," Dante said.
"I'm not people."
"You're annoying."
"And persistent."
He looked away.
"I could help. Really help. You don't have to let me all the way in. Just… give me a corner."
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"I've already picked you," I added softly. "Whether you say yes or not."
Another pause.
Then—quiet, barely above a breath—he said, "If you screw this up, I'll kill you too."
I beamed. "Deal."
His fingers tapped once against the desk. Then stopped. Like something had just clicked into place.