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SEVEN

IMOGEN

A week has passed since we moved into The Elusive House and it’s as if we have always been here. Perhaps it’s because our friends are under the same roof and I must confess, it sure makes things easier.

I love being part of the family and wandering into the kitchen and seeing their familiar faces is a pleasure I never understood.

It’s the same now as I head in to fix some breakfast and find Cassie and Siri already there.

“Hey, Imogen.” Siri smiles. “How’s your ankle?”

“Better.” I reach for the coffeepot and smile. “It was merely a nasty sprain and now I’ve rested it, it feels normal.”

“I’m glad.” She giggles. “I’m guessing Jesse’s magic touch had a hand in that.”

“Jesse?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your boyfriend. Honestly, Imogen, keep up.”

I don’t miss the concern in her eyes and I seek to reassure her.

“Sorry, of course, Jesse. My, um, boyfriend.”

I force a bright smile on my face as Summer joins us and huffs, “I am seriously thinking of moving out. Do you know what Frankie did last night?”

“What?”

Cassie’s eyes widen as Summer hisses, “He freaking locked me in.”

“No way.” Siri is angry for her friend and I love how they work together. If Summer is pissed, Siri is too, and I’m guessing it’s much the same as my relationship with Cassie and Jack.

Summer’s eyes gleam.

“Luckily, I have someone on my side who isn’t afraid to step up, and Luca let me out when I texted him.”

She glances at Cassie and grins. “If you’re wondering where my brother is, you will find him in his room with no way out. Let’s see how he likes it.”

“You locked him in.” Cassie bursts out laughing.

“I’m saying nothing.”

Siri giggles. “I would love to see his face right now. How did you manage that, Summer?”

“It was easy. Ever heard of a chair propped up under the handle? He’s going nowhere fast.”

“He will be pissed.” Cassie shrugs as she butters her toast. “I’ll give it thirty minutes. He could use a lesson in control.”

It certainly lightens the atmosphere and as we take a leisurely breakfast, it strikes me how much I love being around these women. They are all strong and capable, fierce even, and whatever happened with the sprinklers certainly did us a favor.

“What are your plans today?” Cassie whispers as the others chat about people they know.

“After class, I intend on heading into town.”

“Do you want company?”

“That would be great.”

I offer her a warm smile because it’s been a while since I spent a few hours alone with her.

Frankie is usually cemented by her side, and I love watching them together.

Back home, Cassie is a force to be reckoned with.

It kind of goes with the territory given who her father is.

Ryder King is the fiercest guy I have ever met and has taught his daughter well.

Nothing gets past Cassie, and it’s obvious Frankie was made for her.

I’m still not loving that idea because I always wanted her and Jack to work out, but even I must admit, Frankie fits well with Cassie and vice versa.

After breakfast, Cassie heads off to free Frankie and Summer disappears with Siri, leaving me to gather my stuff for class.

As I apply makeup and fix my hair, it strikes me how careful I’m being with that today.

I’m telling myself it’s because I want to look nice for my journey into town but if I’m honest, it’s because I have history first period and it will be the first time I’ve seen Mr. Bellingham since he rescued me in the forest.

It’s been an eventful week and my head is buzzing with everything that happened and yet one incident occupies my thoughts more than any other.

When Drake Bellingham carried me in his arms.

My blood still heats when I think of it and I already know it’s different to how I felt with Jesse. I’m still processing what nearly happened between us and part of me wonders if I would feel differently if it was Drake’s arms holding me rather than Jesse’s.

I am so conflicted, and it doesn’t help when I walk into history and the first person who meets my gaze is the hot teacher himself.

My mouth dries as soon as I see him because how can one man be so god-damned hot?

His piercing eyes hold me spellbound as he appears to stare deep into my soul as he holds my gaze.

His rippling muscles are contained in a black shirt tucked into black pants that merely accentuates his muscled legs and his brown leather belt matches the shoes he is wearing.

A silver chain peers out from his unbuttoned shirt and, knowing how dark ink trails against his skin, causes delirious heat to spread through my entire body.

I almost trip over my feet as I attempt to break the spell he has cast over me and the distraction of the other students piling in is significant to refocus my mind. I stagger to my seat, busying myself with my books while I attempt to drag my mind out of the gutter.

Luckily, our lesson today requires watching a movie about World War Two and as the lights dim, I can breathe again now he isn’t in my line of vision.

As I watch the events on the screen, there is silence in the room and yet my mind is screaming out loudly because Mr. Bellingham is perched on the window ledge beside me as he watches from there.

It’s impossible to concentrate because he is so close I could reach out and touch him.

Any slight movement distracts my attention and my breathing is a touch faster than normal.

It doesn’t help that my mind is wandering and imagining an alternative outcome to our last encounter and I squirm in my seat as a different kind of movie plays out in my mind.

I couldn’t even tell you what it is I just watched when the movie ends and he shifts from beside me and opens the blinds, light flooding into the room.

The bell sounds and as the class scrambles to leave, he stops by my side and whispers, “May I have a word please, Imogen?”

I swallow hard. “Of course.”

My hands shake as I gather my things and as the room empties, he perches on the edge of my desk and his gaze sears through my body as he smiles.

“How are you?”

I’m guessing he is referring to my ankle, and I smile. “I’m good, thanks. It was a sprain and has healed nicely after some rest.”

“That’s good. You were lucky.”

I am trying so hard to focus because being this close to him is messing with my mind and he appears a little lost for words, which is surprising.

The silence is intriguing and I wonder what he is trying to say and then he sighs heavily. “I’m sorry to ask this of you Imogen, but I could use your help.”

“Help?”

I wasn’t expecting this, and he groans. “Principal Constable has asked every teacher to work with a student regarding the prom and, well, I kind of hoped you could help me out here.”

The fact he is obviously so awkward about asking is seriously endearing and I smile. “You. On prom committee.”

I giggle as he groans. “Mad, right?”

He huffs, “So, you see my dilemma and you were the first person who came to mind, so please, Imogen, can you help me out here? I would be forever in your debt.”

“What do we have to do?”

I push away the way my heart curls with pleasure when I refer to us as ‘we’.

I’m also celebrating the fact we will undoubtedly have to spend time together and I’m way too happy about that.

I push away the warning flags that are almost blinding me right now because this is a gift I’m happy to receive.

“Come up with a historical theme for the prom and locate some props to help with the visuals.” Is his reply, and I shrug.

“I thought the theme was masquerade?”

I bite my lip in concentration as I lean on my elbows, staring at him in confusion.

For a second, his eyes flash and the expression in them causes my breath to hitch and as he stares into my eyes, a spark of electricity sizzles between us.

It’s as if time stops and oceans are still as we stare at one another with a million wishes flickering around us. It’s almost as if he is mirroring my soul as I see my longing reflected back at me. It’s intense, revealing and dangerous and words are irrelevant as we communicate in a different way.

A sudden noise outside brings us back into the room and he coughs and raises his eyes to the ceiling before exhaling sharply. “So, will you help me?”

“Of course.”

I lean back in my chair and regard him as blankly as possible, and he nods. “Good, well, um, shall we meet at six?”

I raise my eyes and he says quickly, “To discuss the theme.”

“Of course.” My face heats as I imagine all the kinds of danger we are placing ourselves in because, as sure as I fancy the pants off my teacher, I kind of get the vibe he feels the same.