The Forever Crew

by Stunich, C. M.

  I shiver as Church steps away from me, trying not to catch the gazes of any of the other guys. Kissing one in front of the others is just … well, weird. Not sure I'll ever get used to it. Although I wish this was a thing, a group relationship. I mean polyamory is real, so why not?

  Only, wouldn't polyamory imply they could date other girls? And I'm just not cool with that. Seriously, I couldn't do that. They're all braver than I am.

  “We'll be okay,” Church says, glancing over at Ranger. “I'm assuming you took care of the clothes?”

  “They're gone,” Ranger says, and the flat, dark way in which he says it both relaxes and terrifies me. These guys work as a unit, a team. It's seamless. “Let's get some breakfast.” He pushes up from the wall and pauses near me, offering up an arm.

  After a small moment of hesitation, I take it, and let him lead me downstairs to the dining area. I notice he can barely keep his azure gaze off of me, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he isn’t vigilant enough. I’ll admit, it’s a bit sexy, the overprotective thing. Or like, maybe a lot sexy.

  Dad is near the reception desk, talking with other Adamson staff members, and employees of the resort. He ignores us while we sit down and order, but right at about the time the bowl of edamame arrives, there he is, standing beside me.

  I look up.

  “Jason Lambert is unaccounted for,” he says, voice gruff as his eyes scan the other boys. “When you're finished eating, I want to speak with you and Spencer again.” I nod, but he's not done, dropping those blue eyes back to my face. “After I get your story, you can explain to me why you're not in the room like I requested.”

  He spins on his heel and takes off as I sigh.

  This is going to be a long week, isn't it?

  “Chuck Carson, I am not the bad guy,” Dad says, his face etched with a deep frown. We stare at each other, standing outside on the bridge that spans the length of the koi pond. “Do you think I make up rules just to torture you?”

  “Sometimes,” I admit, and the look he gives me is pure hell. “What? You could try explaining things to me once in a while. Instead, all you do is give vague orders that I'm supposed to follow like a soldier.”

  Archie sighs and moves over to the edge of the bridge, staring down at the shiny scaled backs of the fish. They dart from shadows, gold tails flashing.

  “You must've gotten that stubbornness from me. Your mother's always been an agreeable sort of person.”

  “She's dating Mr. Dave,” I say, unsure as to why I've kept that from him for so long. Hell, maybe he already knows? If he doesn't, he's going to be devastated, I think as I watch the muscles in his upper back and shoulders tighten. “Did you know that?”

  “I didn't,” Dad says carefully, lifting his head up to look at me. He and Mom are eighteen years apart. I've always thought of that as a pretty big age gap. It makes me wonder if he ever considered this might happen, if she might decide she wanted a different life one day. “How do you know about this?”

  “She took me to dinner with him in LA. Don't you think that's odd that they'd meet up like that?” I swallow hard as Archie sighs, rising to his full height, a muscle in the side of his jaw ticking. “And also, that's pretty messed-up that she didn't tell you.”

  “Chuck.” Archie glances my way, mouth pressed into a thin line. “You know your behavior lately has been out of control. What is going on with you and those boys?”

  “I'm … we just like each other.” It's all I can think to say. And it's true. That's all that happened, isn't it? We just sort of started getting along.

  “First you claim you're dating Spencer Hargrove, then you announce you're dating twins.” Dad scoffs and runs his fingers through his thinning hair, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I find a morning-after pill in your things, and then you fake an engagement to get the Montagues to throw their weight around. Does this sound reasonable to you? Because I raised you better than that.”

  I just stare at him and then lift my palms in a helpless gesture.

  “Being in a healthy, happy relationship with more than one person doesn't make me a bad human being,” I say, and my voice sounds soft and mature, most definitely a new Charlotte sort of a thing to do.

  “Watching my daught—son go after and bed five different boys is not something I'm interested in. This is not the sort of behavior anyone would condone for a seventeen-year-old.” He pushes his glasses up his face, and inhales deeply, like he's trying to keep it all together. “It isn't right.”

  “But why? I'm not doing anything wrong. What do you care who I sleep with as long as I'm happy? My grades are better than ever, and for the first time in my life, I'm actually thinking about college. I even started filling out a couple applications. Shouldn't you be happy about that?”

  “Sir.” It's Church, standing not too far off from us, dressed in a fresh yukata, and looking as chipper as well, someone who didn't stab their teacher just hours prior. “There's a police officer at the front gate who'd like to speak with you about Jason.”

  Archie stares at him in a completely new way, all of that shiny joy at being around the best student in school wiped clean. Frankly, Dad looks like he hates him now.

  “Thank you. If you could please stay with Chuck while I'm otherwise occupied. I don't particularly like the idea of you two being alone, but I like the idea of him being by himself even less.” Archie takes off in full headmaster mode, moving down the path toward the front entrance.

  Church and I exchange a look.

  “You don't really think he's involved, do you?” I ask, because the thought that my dad would turn against me is impossible to fathom. We've always butted heads, but then we've always been together, too.

  “In some capacity, I do,” Church says, amber eyes dark. “But I don't think he's trying to kill you. More like he's involved with Mr. Murphy and Mr. Dave somehow. He knows more than he's letting on.”

  He holds out a hand, and I hesitate just a split-second before taking it.

  An enigmatic smile curves over Church's lips, his eyes sparkling.

  “Come, Chuck. I don't bite—not unless you want me to.”

  Tentatively, I place my hand in his, and he yanks me forward. I nearly trip over the edge of my yukata, stumbling into his arms, and finding myself gazing up into that handsome face and wondering what it'd really be like to be engaged to someone so perfect. Church Montague is smart, accomplished, handsome, and a member of one of the richest families in America. Basically, he's a dream.

  A dream … who stabbed someone that's now currently missing.

  Trusting him is a gamble.

  Not trusting him, that could cost me something even greater: a friendship. Or even a romance. A relationship that could last for life.

  “You're still afraid of me,” he says, but not like he's angry, more like that's expected.

  “I'm not,” I protest, but maybe I am. Just a little. “But it would be the ultimate prank, to draw me in, and then finish me off after I already, you know, sort of like you guys and stuff.”

  “Sort of?” Church asks, and then he leans down and hovers his lips just above mine, that lilac and rosemary scent we share mingling in the cool air. His breath is minty and fresh, and I realize that as much coffee as he drinks, he never has coffee breath. Never. See, he really is perfect.

  Almost too perfect though, right? Is there such a thing?

  “Wow, look the faggot has a harem of gays all to himself.” Mark sneers as he walks by, and Church's face flashes with this dark energy. He pulls a fan from his pocket, one that's all folded up, and then he chucks it with two fingers hard enough to hit Mark right in the throat. The idiot gags and starts choking, grabbing at his neck. “Did you seriously just throw that at me?!”

  “Prove it,” Church says with a dreadful looking smile. “You've been uppity lately, Mark. Tell me: are you up to something the Student Council should know about?”

  “Eat some dick. Clearly that's your thing, right?” Mark storms of
f, rubbing at his neck, and Church releases me, sauntering over to pick up the fan and tucking it back into his pocket.

  “Come, let's try to enjoy the rest of the trip.” He turns and heads back in the direction of the lodge and, with a deep breath, I follow along behind him.

  Later that night, I'm sitting in the room I share with Church. Dad and I had another fight about where I'd be sleeping tonight, but the stress of the day must really have gotten to him because he gave up without a win for once.

  So here I am, with my assigned roommate, in the room where he stabbed our teacher …

  A lantern flickers on the low table near the door as I sit cross-legged on my sleeping mat, surreptitiously watching Church as he browses on his phone. After a moment, he looks up at me.

  “You don't have to take a turn on watch, you know. Just wake Ranger up.” Church pokes his friend with a bare toe, and our favorite naked baker grumbles in his sleep. They're all in here, by the way, the entire Student Council.

  The twins started off bickering, but now that they're asleep, somehow Micah's arm is over Tobias. It's pretty cute actually. Spencer is all tangled up in his sheets, and Ranger is curled up, like he's trying to protect something.

  “I'm fine taking a watch,” I say, shrugging a shoulder, all nice and casual like. Church pauses and sets his phone down on the table, next to a pot of tea and a set of cups with saucers.

  “Are you worried? Sleeping in here with all of us?”

  “If I were, I would've just let Dad win the argument and padded over to his room.” I scoot over to the table and pour myself some tea. It's still warm, the steam rising in a white cloud. “So, where do you think Mr. Dave went?”

  “No clue,” Church says, relaxing back against the shoji screen and watching me as I bring the tea to my lips. It's some sort of green tea, very earthy, with a grassy kind of smell. I'm surprised to find that I actually like it. “Maybe he is guilty, and he made a run for it?”

  There's a long pause as we both consider that. It's a possibility, that's for sure.

  “I'm sorry I ran away,” I repeat, and Church lifts his head, golden hair feathering across his forehead and catching the light. He's absolutely stunning in that yukata, with the fabric sliding down one shoulder and exposing his skin to the candlelight.

  I wonder if he’s wearing any underwear beneath his robe?

  I facepalm for even thinking that.

  When I look up, Church is raising a single, skeptical brow at me.

  “Did you just literally facepalm to your own thoughts?” he asks, and I grimace. I have a bad habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve. He smiles at me before I get a chance to respond and sets his teacup aside, leaning forward and putting a hand between my legs. My robe catches under his palm, giving me absolutely zero chance of escaping. “I love how animated you are, Mr. Carson.”

  “Animated is one way of putting it,” I hedge as he leans in even closer, and I smell that familiar lilac-rosemary scent we both share. I've just been using the cherry blossom stuff they stock the bathroom with here, but I'm pretty sure Church must've brought some of the Adamson stuff with him. That, or I'm just, like, super attuned to his scent. My cheeks flush red, but I refuse to accept that last idea as fact.

  Church's smile gets a little wider, just enough that the emotion finally glints back at me from his beautiful amber eyes.

  “See what I mean?” he whispers, leaning in close enough that I think he's going to kiss me again. Instead, he moves past my mouth and plants a kiss on the side of my jaw instead. “You're blushing. Pray tell: what thought’s just skittered through that pretty little head of yours?”

  “Pretty little head … that's kinda sexist, don't you think?” I murmur, flushing even harder, and Church laughs again. It's a low, soft sound, almost dangerous. I can't believe I ever thought he was a sociopath (or psychopath, whatever, I can't remember the difference). He's just bottled up, full of emotion he refuses to submit to. Me, I'm a slave to my emotions.

  Church just pulls back slightly, leaning over and turning the gas down on the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. My breath catches, and I have to throw a lasso around my heart to keep it from beating so furiously that it escapes out of my gently parted lips.

  “You don't have to apologize for running. You saw me with my hands on a bloodied knife; you had a killer staring at you from down the hall. I'm glad you ran. I'm not sure I could handle it if anything happened to you, Chuck.”

  My palms are sweaty when I lift them up and lay them on Church's muscular upper arms, surprised yet again that the coffee-obsessed prince of the school is so buff beneath his uniform and cultured exterior. Pleasantly surprised, my brain reminds me, and I'm glad the lights are now off so he can't see exactly how red I'm getting.

  Our mouths brush, just the slightest touch of lips, and a sea of butterflies takes off in my belly, making me feel dizzy. We can't have a full-on make out session with the other guys in the room, now can we, I tell myself, but it's hard to figure out group dating etiquette when, you know, there really isn't any available.

  The hot, slick tip of Church's tongue teases along my lower lip, and I shiver, curling my fingers around his biceps. He presses further as I gently open my mouth and welcome him in; it's impossible to miss the fact that his hand is sliding ever closer to the sweet spot between my thighs.

  Unfortunately, that's also the same moment that I notice movement behind Church's shoulder and glance up to see a shadow looming on the other side of the shoji screen. There's the faint outline of a person peering in at us, and my breath catches—but for completely different reasons than before.

  Church stiffens up and glances over his shoulder. Before I can even think about how to handle the situation, he's pushing up to his feet and heading for the door. The person on the other side takes off as he slides the screen open.

  “Wake the others up!” he hisses, and then he takes off running.

  “Fuck,” I grumble, shoving up to my bare feet before using one to kick at Ranger's shoulder. “Get up, trouble!”

  He snaps awake in an instant, but I'm already taking off after Church. I ran away from him before; I won't let him chase down a murderer by himself.

  My naked feet slap against the wood planks outside as I chase after Church and the shadow, fireflies dancing in the air around the courtyard. The shadow person rounds the corner first, but Church isn't far behind.

  By the time I catch up, panting and huffing, I see Church grabbing the person by their shoulder and shoving them into the wall. He tears the hood of their gray sweater over their head and reveals a face I never expected to see here.

  “Selena?” I ask, choking and coughing as I come to a stop beside the pair of them. Her brown eyes glare down at me as she struggles to catch her breath, blond hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. We only met once, at the Everly All-Girls Academy Valentine's Day dance, but how could I forget the girl who gave me her dress, a wig, and some makeup when I really needed it? “You're one of the killers?”

  “What?” Selena asks, blinking back at me like I'm a crazy person. “Is that what he calls his groupies now?”

  “Groupies?” I echo, exchanging a look with Church. “Whose groupies?”

  “Mark,” she replies with a huff, pushing Church's hands off her shoulders and rubbing at them like she might have bruises later. I'm not surprised: Church has a disturbingly strong grip, at odds with his president of the academy appearance.

  “Mark has groupies?” I blurt, and there must be some level of abject horror in my voice because Selena turns her glare on me. Church, on the other hand, doesn't look particularly shocked.

  “They call themselves the foot-bra-lers which, really, doesn't make any sense at all.”

  “Mark, the douche-canoe-ass-pig has groupies who call themselves … what? Like, footballers but … brawlers?” I'm just having trouble making the connection. Mark is nowhere near cool enough to have groupies.

  “Please don't call my boyfriend a douche
… wait, did you say ass pig?” Selena asks, giving me a special sort of look. I know my insults are unconventional, okay? But since when is creativity a bad thing? Some paint with oils, others with acrylics, and me … with juvenile quips that make no sense. We all have our mediums.

  “Bra-lers, like brassiere, no W,” Church corrects, his shrewd gaze locked on Selena's face. She seems innocent enough, but she was lurking around in the dark, wasn't she? And besides, she goes to Everly, not Adamson, so what the hell is she doing here at all?

  “What the fuck is going on?” Ranger snaps, coming around the corner shirtless and glorious and sexy and … I swipe the imaginary drool off my face and try to remember what we're doing out here. Spencer and the twins aren't far behind, and I almost choke when Tobias reaches out to fix my yukata. It's fallen so low that the bindings on my breasts are showing.

  “I got you, Chuck,” he whispers as he adjusts my robe and then turns a green-eyed glare on Selena. “The hell is going on out here?”

  “We have an Everly girl sneaking around the shadows,” Church says as Selena huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. Crickets chirp and moonlight dances on the koi pond in the front courtyard, but it's far from serene out here. I swear, I can taste the metallic bite of blood in the air.

  “Aren't you the girl from the dance?” Spencer asks, cocking his head to one side. I notice as he runs his fingers through his hair that his hand is shaking. I also notice that Tobias has put some distance between himself and Micah, not good. I feel like I've upset their careful twin balance. “We smoked weed on the dock with this chick.”

  “This chick has a name,” Selena barks, lifting her chin defiantly. I can't unsee her and Mark grinding on each other outside Church's parents’ party. Gross. Not an image I wanted burned into my brain, thank you very much. “Selena McConnell, and before you lose your ever-loving shit on me again, don't worry: I'm not here for you.” Spencer and Tobias exchange a look as Ranger narrows his sapphire eyes on her, and Church leans one shoulder against the wall, deceptively casual. Micah sidles up to stand beside me and we trade a skeptical look of our own. “I'm looking for my boyfriend, Mark.”