Monday morning I walk into school on two hours of sleep, the dread from last night still settled in my chest. Midnight. The pool house. What I agreed to.
I'm halfway to my locker when the announcement comes over the speakers.
"Layla Reed and Cain Russo, please report to Mr. Harrison's office."
People turn to look at me. I ignore them and make my way to the English department, and Cain is already there when I arrive.
He's leaning against the wall outside Harrison's office, arms crossed, jaw set, looking like he slept just fine. Those hands have held me down. I know the sounds he makes. I know exactly how he feels inside me, and that knowledge sits hot and inconvenient in my chest every time I look at him.
My stomach drops. I fix my eyes on the door.
"Morning, stepsister," he says.
"D
