The observation makes my cheeks heat worse than his stalking confession.
I don’t have a social life. Always different, ever since Chelsea’s targeting became personal, I’ve become a pariah.
Before I respond, Van der Valk walks into class, humming under his breath as he sets his briefcase near the piano. “Ophelia, could I see you in my office?”
A chorus of ‘oohs’ follow me into the cramped space.
“Today’s a practice exam for the class, but you did so well last time, I hoped you might help Damien instead. It’ll earn you a tutoring credit and with your existing results, it could bump you to NCEA level 4.”
The suggestion has Damien’s fingerprints all over it. I should refuse but hesitate.
Damien’s admission about following me proves he’s being honest. If I want to find out if he’s planning something awful with Chelsea, I could just… ask?
Dumb. It’s a dumb idea.
But we’re in class. He’s not going to hurt me with teachers a scream away.
“Okay,” I agree. “For just this lesson. I don’t want to fall behind.”
He beams. “Of course. I’ve booked you into music room three.”
The smallest of the practice rooms. I force a smile, take the course notes, and lead Damien into the private space.
The sound is different in here, smoothed by the acoustic panels. A half-size keyboard sits unplugged on the small table, and I shove it farther back to give us room, taking the seat nearest the door for an easier escape.
Almost immediately, his phone buzzes and I shoot him a dirty look.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. He chuckles as he reads the message.
The question slips out like a compulsion. “What’s made you so happy?”
“Left evidence I didn’t mean to at a crime scene, but a mate just fixed it all for me, better than I could’ve hoped. Sometimes having a rich dad really pays.”
He delivers the confession with the casual pride of an artist displaying their latest canvas. “Christ, you really have no filter, do you?”
“Honesty, remember? If you’ve changed your mind since last night, you’ll have to ask me to lie.” He darts in, breath hot and heavy in my ear. “Tempted yet?”
I swallow, his damned scent flooding my mouth. “By a criminal?”
“By a fit rich guy.” His voice turns lilting, playful. “And the same label applies to you after yesterday. Just agree to my terms and we can get you those expensive new glasses.”
“Every minute spent in your company makes me happier I’m legally blind.”
I spread the course outline on the desk, barely enough room under it for our two chairs. When Damien shifts position, his shoulder touches mine, warming my skin through my blouse.
“Why the pepper spray?”
Spit dries in my mouth and I fidget, biting the inside of my cheek.
But this is the opening I want.
“For Chelsea,” I say. “She’s bullied me all year, and I finally got fed-up enough to do something about it.”
The weight of his gaze rakes across my face, then he relaxes, stretching his legs and lacing fingers behind his head. “What’s her deal?”
“You’re the one in league with her. You tell me.”
“In league?” He snorts. “What the fuck does that mean?”
