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Scout
The following day, I text Lev and ask him to meet me at Saxon Woods Park. The wind is bitingly cool, especially for late fall, and it almost feels as if there’s snow in the air. A part of me wishes there was, but it’s just the typical Scarsdale sleet that falls at this time of year when our already chilly weather turns to a cold snap.
The park is all but abandoned today. I’ve passed the occasional hiker on the trail, but for the most part, I’m alone. And Lev is late.
I lean against the tree, my earbuds in, as I take a selfie and post it to Instagram. The first twenty likes pour in. I frown as I stare at the picture and wish I’d retouched my face before posting because this weather has my hair frizzing out completely. A twig snaps nearby. I glance up. Justin Hearst stands only a few feet away.
“Little Scout Taylor. I thought that was you.” There’s something predatory about the way he says my name, the way he looks at me. I shiver and glance down the track behind him.
I’m going to murder Lev Fucking Fox.
“I’m kind of hard to miss,” I say, keeping my tone light, my expression bored as I stare down at my phone and scroll my feed to avoid engaging.
“Kind of a shit day for a walk, isn’t it?”
I simply glare at him.
Justin shoves his hands in his pockets, the picture of cool, rich kid in his rumpled designer threads, but I have a sixth sense for desperation. I can smell it a mile off. And Justin Hearst is smothered in it. It oozes from his every pore, a stench so repugnant that just being in the same room as him affects one’s popularity.
He smiles wistfully. “I’m glad I finally caught you alone.”
Alone. Alone.
Alarm bells sound in my mind as I catalogue my surroundings: deserted walking trail, half a mile from civilization, and completely alone with Justin Hearst. No one would hear me scream. But then again, I’m a Royal. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to lay a finger on me.
I could run. I’m fit from years of cheerleading, lithe on my feet, but so is he. He’s running back for the Scarsdale Bears. He has the best speed out of any guy on the team. Or he did, before he tore his knee ligament last week. But if that was true, how did he hike this far into the woods? Coach benched him for the rest of the season.
I swallow hard and stare at him. The devil stares back, beady-eyed and gloating. He knows that I’m aware of my predicament, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it. I wish I’d paid more attention when Saint taught me, Blythe, Violet, and Nova basic self-defense.
I take a step back, around the tree, and Justin moves with me. My heart races, adrenalin surges through my veins as my eyes dart around the woods, mapping my escape.
“She’s not alone.”
Lev. Oh God, I could kiss him right now.
I straighten and skip past Justin to Lev’s side. My knight in shining armor is dressed head to toe in black. Jeans, T-shirt, beaten-up leather jacket, and motorcycle boots. His hair is perfectly tousled, like he just got out of bed and ran his big hands through it. A shiver runs the length of my spine, but it’s no longer fear coursing through me—it’s desire. And if I’m not careful, Justin is going to pick up on it. Assuming he hasn’t already.
Oh God. Is he the creeper who’s been leaving notes in my locker? If that’s true, I can’t exactly bring it up right now, not without telling Lev first.
“Hey,” Lev says with a wink. “Miss me?”
What the hell is he doing? I glance at Justin. He studies both of us intently, the way my shoulder brushes Lev’s, the way his hand grazes the back of mine.
“You wish,” I say coolly. The way I usually would if anyone were around to witness an exchange between Lev and I.
Lev chuckles. “Oh, Cub. Always playing so hard to get.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because I have standards, and no one even comes close to measuring up to Navrin.” I chew the inside of my cheek. It kills me to say those words to him, but I can soothe his bruised ego when Justin is gone. “And speaking of, where is my boyfriend?”
“Starbucks. He and the guys are just grabbing you an iced cloud macchiato, or whatever the fuck you drink, but they’ll be right over.”
I glance at Justin. His smile is smug, and I know he’s not buying this. “Justin, I forgot you were still here. So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about ... alone?”
His gaze darts between Lev and I, his lips turning down in the corners. “It’s not important.” He backs up a few steps and turns, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll catch you some other time.”
“God, I hate that weaselly little fucker,” Lev says, loud enough for Justin to hear.
Justin stops in his tracks, but he doesn’t turn around. He just stands there like a complete twatwaffle for a beat before continuing on down the trail. I turn to Lev, but his eyes aren’t on Justin—they’re searching my face.
“Thank God you came along when you did,” I say, watching Justin’s retreat. “Or we might have had the next Ted Bundy on our hands. He liked killing girls in wooded areas, right?”
“I think that was Robert Hansen. He used to fly girls out to remote woodlands in Alaska and hunt them down for sport.”
“It’s disturbing how much you know about serial killers.”
He bends to whisper in my ear. “And yet, I’m still not as creepy as that guy.” Lev points to Justin’s legs—all that we can see now of his retreating form through the trees. “What the hell was he doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You okay? He didn’t try anything, did he?”
“No, but I don’t ever want to be alone with him again.”
Lev wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Never gonna happen.”
“Lev, we need to talk.”
“Looks like.”
But we don’t talk. Once we’re sure Justin is gone, we move deeper into the woods and when he kisses me, deep and slow and bone-meltingly good, talking is the last thing on either of our minds.