Reason 8:

He’s a total sociopath.

He threatened me.

Midnight found me lying awake, staring at the ceiling. And not just because Kendall snored. Cole had never pulled away from me like that, even when I’d done something to deserve it.

It would be so much easier if I could blame Sterling for driving a wedge between us, or Cole for misunderstanding my intentions. But my conscience wouldn’t let me. I never expected Cole to be perfect, to be my matching bookend. I wanted him to just be himself, and to trust me as much as I trusted him.

And I’d failed, utterly and completely.

After an hour turning in circles, I made up my mind: I’d go to the headmaster. Sure, Rule 54 forbade tattling and similar immature behaviors, but that Rule should yield right of way in the face of a direct danger to Cole. After all, looking out for Cole was Rule 1, the most fundamental Rule of my existence. I’d always been able to live within the confines of all 537 Rules, without exception, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

First thing in the morning, I made my way to Headmaster Lowell’s office. His door was shut, which was unusual. He liked to pretend that he was friends with all the students and encouraged casual drop-ins.

“Is Headmaster Lowell in?” I asked the secretary. As usual, she was dressed like she’d time-traveled in from 1952, creepy android hair and all.

She nodded. “He’s in with a student, but you can wait here until he’s free.”

My shoulder blades twitched at the thought of being late to history. “Will I be excused from a tardy?”

“Of course, dear,” the secretary said. “Now just have a seat.”

Being late to class was against Rule 87, but I’d never specified whether that included excused absences. My palms were sweating at this obvious flaw in Rule 87, but since I was already in over my head, why not plunge in deeper? Sterling Lane would be shipped off to his penthouse on Park Avenue, where he could squander his smiles on all those Upper East Side girls. With him gone, exposed for what he truly was, Cole would be considerably safer. Then we’d sort out the weight room funding and whatever other trouble Cole had stumbled into.

It wasn’t equitable that Sterling would get in trouble for something the entire team had done. But life wasn’t fair, plus he’d started it.

I glanced at my watch. I was now officially five minutes late to history. Was my usual seat vacant, patiently waiting for me?

“I’m assuming I’ll be fully excused for this tardy,” I told the secretary. “Or can my time just run out—like a parking meter? Is there a statute of limitations on being excused?”

She looked up at me, rheumy eyes refocusing through the upper half of her bifocals. “Unless you’re here just to skip a quiz, I’m sure Headmaster Lowell will excuse you.”

“Skip a quiz? Of course not. It’s just that I have the utmost respect for Mrs. Stevens. I wouldn’t want my absence from class to convey anything otherwise.”

She stared at me for a full count of five before returning to the stack of papers she was sorting into red and blue plastic folders. After that unhelpful exchange, I took out my notebook and started to revise my study timeline for that evening. To no avail. I looked at the clock and back at my notes again. Seconds ticked past—seconds that Mrs. Stevens might be using to administer a pop quiz or to give the details of an extra credit opportunity—an opportunity that I would therefore miss. Not to mention all the extra studying I’d have to do that night to ensure I didn’t lag behind on preparing for the AP history exam. I tried to take a deep, calming breath, but it turned into little panicked gulps of air.

Headmaster Lowell’s office door finally cracked open an inch, then swung open full force. I shot out of my chair.

Cole walked out, head hanging. My throat tightened at the regret that radiated from him.

“Oh, Harper, you’re here already,” Headmaster Lowell said, as if he was expecting me. “That was fast.”

Cole must have come clean himself, told the headmaster about Sterling’s terrible transgressions, and had enlisted me to corroborate his tale.

But Cole refused to meet my eyes. His shoulders slumped until he was almost as short as me.

“I’m sorry about what I said last night,” he whispered. “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

“I’d hoped you didn’t,” I replied, sighing. It was the first time I’d been able to take a full breath since last night. “But I’m sorry, too—I wasn’t judging you. Or trying to make you feel worse. I wanted to help.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

Relief washed over me. Everything between Cole and me was going to work out just fine.

“Just, whatever you hear, don’t hate me, okay?” he said.

“I could never hate you,” I replied, emphatic. “Never. And what happened last night wasn’t your fault.”

Cole looked at me, really looked me. Then he dropped his gaze. “You’ll see,” he mumbled.

Headmaster Lowell turned away from his secretary, whom he’d been conferring with quietly. Then he handed her a sheet of paper.

“Bring the rest in, but stagger it,” he said. “I’d like to talk to Sterling Lane next. He’s your roommate, correct, Cole?”

Cole nodded without looking up.

“Of course you need to talk to him next,” I said. “It really doesn’t concern anyone else, does it?”

Headmaster Lowell frowned. “Maybe we should move into my office, Harper.” He held the door open and motioned me inside.

His office looked like what a Hollywood set designer would imagine a headmaster’s office should be. Because Headmaster Lowell didn’t recognize the difference between books that were actually important and books he figured people would expect him to have read. Or between real antiques and flea market specials.

Two spindly, cheaply made wooden chairs perched on the rug in front of his broad mahogany desk. Matching bookcases full of outdated leather encyclopedias and second-tier classics lined one wall, while the other was littered with gaudily framed Picasso reprints and a certificate from a weekend seminar on adolescent psychology that hadn’t benefited him one bit.

I sat in the chair nearest Headmaster Lowell’s desk. I’d been there only a handful of times, and only when I was being given a commendation for my grades or perfect attendance. It was unexpectedly intimidating to be there for any other reason.

Because I was suddenly nervous, I started spilling my story before the headmaster had even settled into his cracked leather desk chair.

“I know Cole technically incriminated himself if he told you all the details of what happened last night. But really, it wasn’t his fault. Sterling is a master manipulator. I have firsthand experience with that.”

“Sterling?” He looked genuinely taken aback. “Sterling was involved in this? Do you have any proof?”

I’d watched enough crime dramas to know that the cigarette butt was circumstantial at best. And in this age of digital tampering, admitting photos into evidence was always rife with controversy. First, I had to lay a foundation of facts.

“I think we should start with my testimony,” I said.

“Then let’s hear it.”

“Well, it all started yesterday morning.” I leaned forward in my chair. My nervousness dissipated. I told Headmaster Lowell all of it, from Sterling’s rude interruption of Mrs. Stevens’s class to the way he’d tried to bribe me into doing his homework under the auspices of tutoring him. I was just finishing my itemized list of his dress code violations when Headmaster Lowell held up one hand.

“Maybe I should explain why we’re here,” he said. “While it’s clear you and Sterling have had a misunderstanding regarding his tutoring needs, due to his, um, medical conditions, that’s relatively minor in light of what happened last night.”

“Oh, I know all about that, too,” I told him. “I was watching.”

“Watching?” His jaw dropped. It was the perfect opportunity to finish my story without any further interruptions.

“Well, after everything Sterling did yesterday, I had a feeling that any alleged lacrosse meeting he arranged was probably suspect,” I explained. “I should add that since my own record is above reproach, I’m trusting that you’ll overlook this minor indiscretion.” I paused to suck in oxygen. “I snuck into the boys’ locker room on a hunch they were up to no good. And I was right. I have photo documentation.”

Headmaster Lowell’s eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune at having a firsthand witness. But instead of rejoicing at his windfall, the headmaster massaged his forehead with his fingers, just like my father does every time I try to explain something important to him. “Before you tell me anything else that could incriminate you,” he said, “you need to hear why we’re here. Last night someone stole one thousand dollars from a locked box in the athletic department office. Based on security’s detail, we know it occurred between midnight and six a.m., and there were no signs of forced entry. Cole and the rest of the team raised that money with their annual barbecue fund-raiser to purchase weight room equipment. The administration intends to launch a full investigation.”

I was so caught off guard that my brain couldn’t switch tracks and process what he’d just said.

“What does this have to do with me?” I demanded. “Or Cole?”

“Nothing, at least directly.” He took off his glasses and set them on the surface of his mahogany desk. “Whoever did this had a key. Cole was given a key due to his responsibilities as lacrosse captain so that he could have access to the locker room before games.”

“Then all the other sports captains have keys, too.” I wasn’t at all surprised that the headmaster had missed something so obvious. “Not to mention all the staff and teachers. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“A key was found at the scene of the crime. Which is why I’ve asked everyone to produce their keys, as proof of their innocence.” Headmaster Lowell dropped his voice. “Cole claims he lost his key during practice yesterday. While I want to take his statement at face value, I was told by several members of the faculty, most notably his coach, that Cole has exhibited unusual behaviors the last two weeks. He has been withdrawn and has struggled to complete his assignments. The faculty and I have been discussing the possibility that substances are involved. It’s not at all uncommon for these types of incidents to indicate a deeper underlying issue.”

“Cole wouldn’t do this.” But the sinking feeling in my stomach wouldn’t let me lie to myself and to Headmaster Lowell. I hated that I wasn’t certain how far astray Cole’s desperation would carry him. Still, it made no sense—why would Cole steal from his own fund-raiser when he was desperate to increase the funds?

“I keep telling myself the same thing,” Headmaster Lowell replied. “After knowing him for years, it just doesn’t add up. Which is why I wanted to see if he’d said anything to you. Anything that would shed some light on the matter.”

It was a crossroads—tell the truth and betray my brother, or throw my lot in with him, knowing that somehow I’d find a way to make this right.

“No,” I said. “But you should ask Sterling. I wouldn’t put it past him to steal Cole’s keys and take that money just for laughs.”

Headmaster Lowell sighed. “I was hoping we could keep on topic here, Harper. Sterling is working hard to turn his life around, and I won’t have you or anyone else discriminate against him based on his past mistakes. We don’t fling mud just to protect our families.”

He was defending Sterling and criticizing me all in one breath. Worst of all, he seemed determined to blame Cole, no matter how much reasonable doubt I cast upon the situation. My hands wrapped around the seat of my chair, squeezing so hard my fingers ached. But nothing I did was enough to hold it back.

The Sterling Lane fury clawed its way right out of its cage and hurled itself at Headmaster Lowell.

“How is this off topic? I know why he got kicked out of his last school. Arson. And I just told you he tried to bribe me to write his papers, and that he was drinking in class. Does it really seem all that amazing that he’d do something like this?” Somehow, I was on my feet, yelling in the headmaster’s face. “On the one hand we have Cole, who’s never stepped a toe out of line, and on the other we have an absolute reprobate with unfettered access to Cole’s keys.”

There was a soft knock on the door. “Everything all right in here?” The secretary peered around the corner of the door. “I heard shouting.”

“Everything is fine, thank you,” Headmaster Lowell snapped.

His secretary was eyeing me like I was vermin she wanted to chase out of the room with a broom. “Sterling Lane is here,” she said. Her voice warmed as it wrapped around his name, like he’d been sitting out there charming those knee-high, flesh-colored nylons right off her. “Such a polite boy. Shall I send him in?”

Headmaster Lowell glanced at me, visibly annoyed, and I assumed I would be dismissed. Given how raw and out of control I was, that would be the safest course of action—even if it meant I’d failed, again, to expose Sterling Lane in all his horrifying glory. I was primed for detonation and Sterling Lane was missile-grade uranium.

Headmaster Lowell examined his glasses, turning them over on the surface of his mahogany desk and adjusting his nose pads. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, send him in.”

I started to rise, ready to flee, but Headmaster Lowell extended a hand toward me. “No. Sit for a moment, please, Harper.”

Panic consumed me—palms sweating, crippling nausea. I couldn’t be trapped in that tiny room with Sterling Lane. But per Rule 305, I couldn’t defy the headmaster, or any other teacher. Maybe I could throw up right on the faded beige carpet and get banished to the nurse’s office.

Then Sterling Lane sauntered in, dressed to perfection in a starched white shirt and pressed khaki slacks with a crease down the front. I had to admit, he cleaned up well. But it was a trick. He was trying to win Headmaster Lowell over to his side. When he smiled, it was mild and sedate. Every last ounce of viper venom had vaporized.

“Good morning, Harper.” Sterling sounded genuinely delighted to see me.

“You’re not fooling anyone. We all know your views on the dress code.”

Sterling’s eyebrows snapped together. Then he cracked a grin and looked down sheepishly. It was an Oscar-worthy performance. “I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “I’m grateful you filled me in. It’s hard to learn the ropes at a new school. But you’ve been so helpful, pointing out everything I’m doing wrong.”

Headmaster Lowell missed the sarcasm, and his warning glare was aimed at me and me alone. “Sterling, I’m afraid I have two things to discuss with you this morning rather than one, as I’d intended. Let’s start with what I believe will be the easiest to resolve. It has been suggested that you may have been relapsing into some of those behaviors that got you into trouble in the past.”

Sterling looked at me, eyes narrowed. But he quickly schooled his face into a novice nun’s meekness. “It has been difficult, sir. But I assure you, I’ve been fighting hard against those old patterns like you encouraged me to do.”

“Your father says you’ve spent a lot of time visiting your grandmother at Crest Haven—I know he’s pleased to see you’re rising to the occasion since it’s one of the reasons you asked to attend this school.”

“I’ve always been close to my grandmother,” Sterling replied. “And my father knows it. I’d never let her down.”

I glanced at Sterling out of the corner of my eye. Crest Haven was a private residence for Alzheimer’s patients, designed to feel like a normal community instead of like a nursing home. It was famous—world-renowned for its innovative approach—and located just a few miles away. Somehow I couldn’t picture Sterling playing the diligent grandson, but I’d heard him on the phone with my own two ears, sounding almost sweet. But that wasn’t enough to vindicate him from the rest of what he’d done.

“Just be careful, Sterling,” Headmaster Lowell drawled. “The human mind longs for patterns, for the familiar. We need to wear down the path of positivity in your brain so that when you face a difficult decision, you naturally choose the right path. The good path that leads to solid grades and a brilliant future. As long as you avoid slipping back into those negative paths, they’ll soon become overrun with weeds and dust, and won’t call out to you any longer.”

“An excellent metaphor, sir.” Sterling nodded, all solemn and contrite.

I couldn’t help it. I snorted.

“This is very serious, Harper,” Headmaster Lowell said. “We’re talking about Sterling’s future. A future that is full of promise.”

“Yeah, the promise of the penal system. He’s playing the contrite little sociopath just to keep you off his back. Rest assured he’ll return to his room and his snifter of brandy. I can’t believe I’m the only one who sees through this crap.”

Headmaster Lowell dropped the pen he’d been twirling absently between his fingers. “I’ve warned you once already, Harper. Sterling’s not the only one who needs to work on positivity. I’ve talked to you before about your temper, and it seems to me you’re losing control of it again.”

As Headmaster Lowell bent down to retrieve his pen, an invisible force tugged at the corner of Sterling’s mouth. He leveled me with a horrible, wicked smile that slipped back undercover just in time to avoid detection.

“He’s mocking you,” I said. “As soon as you bent over, he cracked into his sadistic little grin.”

Sterling put his hands up in the air, eyes wide with innocence.

“Harper, you need to control your outbursts.” Headmaster Lowell shook his head at me. “Now as you know, Sterling has an injury to his hand and can’t take notes. Given your academic achievement and the little misunderstanding that seems to be at the heart of this, I think it would be a good exercise for you two to work together. This is an excellent opportunity to help someone who’s trying to better himself. What is the point of excelling if not to bring others up with you?”

“To get away from people like him,” I said. “That’s the point of excelling. To separate the wheat from the chaff. I’m not helping him. He’s a deceitful, manipulative psychopath, and one day you’ll eat your words. And if you don’t believe me, take a look at this.” In a fit of impulsive recklessness, I pulled out my phone and flipped through the photos, searching for the right one. “He got the entire lacrosse team drunk in the locker room last night. I took a photo to prove it.”

Sterling tried to strangle the laugh, but it exploded in a fit of coughing. He covered his mouth with one hand, fighting it so hard he bit his palm to keep it in check. I hoped to God he really was choking to death like it sounded.

“Water,” Sterling coughed out, doubling over.

Headmaster Lowell flew out of his chair and rushed to the office door. I could hear him outside, filling a glass from the cooler.

“Go ahead, choke on my vindication.” I crossed my arms across my chest. “I’ll dance on your grave wearing tap shoes.”

“Sneaking into the boys’ locker room?” he murmured. “I feel so violated. Tell me, sweetheart, did you see anything you like?” He flashed a smile so big that every perfectly polished molar came out to contribute. It sent a shiver down my neck, the way his eyes narrowed as he surveyed me. “Tread carefully, little Harper. You don’t need another enemy. Especially one like me.”

The shuffle of Headmaster Lowell’s feet on the thick carpet seemed to bring him back to his senses. He dropped the smile and cleared his throat again, keeping up the choking act.

“Thank you, sir,” Sterling said, accepting the glass of water. He turned those hazy brown eyes on me. There was anger there. The kind of anger I was smart enough to pay attention to. Because Sterling Lane wasn’t half as stupid and lazy as I wanted him to be.

I held my phone aloft for Headmaster Lowell to examine the photo. Sterling’s eyes scanned the image, then he leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest. He was up to something.

“Are team meetings not allowed at Sablebrook?” Sterling asked. “It’s a naive question, because yes, I admit to holding one. I didn’t know it would be an issue.” I looked again at the photo, scrutinizing it with unbiased eyes—eyes of someone who wasn’t there to see and hear the raucous cheering. Sure, Sterling was at a table, surrounded by his teammates, but the vodka was nowhere to be seen. Only the thin rim of the shot glass was visible in his grasp. Truly, he could have been holding anything.

“But—I have more,” I sputtered. “This is his.” I’d gone too far to turn back. I reached into my bag and produced the small brown cigarette butt, secured in its labeled plastic bag. I set it on Headmaster Lowell’s desk as he put on his glasses to examine it. He turned the bag over in his hands, a pinched expression on his face. “I’m afraid we’re not equipped for DNA testing at Sablebrook,” Headmaster Lowell said, glancing up at me.

“I retrieved this from below Sterling and Cole’s window,” I told them. “He was smoking in his room and flicked it outside. I saw him.”

Sterling’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it.

“Don’t look so self-satisfied,” I snapped at him. “You know I’m right.”

Sterling uncrossed his arms and steepled his fingers. “I think anyone raised within the purview of the United States judicial system would appreciate how paltry this so-called evidence appears. And how desperate your accusations seem. We both know what this is really about.”

“Of course we do,” I said. “It’s about Cole.”

“Harper, I’d like us to move past this,” Sterling replied mildly, switching to a tone I’d never expected from him. It was the way you’d soothe a wounded animal. “I understand you’re hurt. And why you’re so desperate for revenge.”

“I’m not hurt—”

“Harper,” Headmaster Lowell interjected. “Please let Sterling finish.”

My stomach contracted into a pea-sized ball with the density of Venus. I had no idea where Sterling was going with this, and that terrified me.

“Now, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, sir,” Sterling continued. “But the thing is, I’m really not ready for a relationship. And you know how girls get. Hell hath no fury, and all that.”

The pressure. The pressure behind my eyes. My head had either exploded or was in the process of doing so, my brains brightening the puke-brown curtains.

There were no words. No words for the unbridled outrage that was bursting the blood from my veins.

Headmaster Lowell flushed pink, whereas I kept on cruising past red into a hearty shade of eggplant. “I don’t want to date you,” I shrieked. “I hate you.”

“Settle down now, Harper,” said Headmaster Lowell. “I think you’re right, Sterling. I think it’s best if I just let the two of you work this out by yourselves.”

“But he’s lying,” I shouted.

“I know how difficult this age can be,” Headmaster Lowell said, breaking out one of the lessons from his weekend course in pop psychology. “You know, Dr. Schwartz isn’t just a career counselor. He has training in, well, personal issues as well.”

It was too much. Too much for me to endure. I couldn’t sit through another moment of this horrible, nonsensical farce of my worst nightmare.

“You’ll regret this,” I said, pushing to my feet so fast my chair toppled over behind me. If I even looked at Sterling, I’d punch him right in his aristocratic nose. “He’ll ruin this school and everyone in it. And when he does, I’ll serve you your words on a silver platter.” I stormed out of the room, but before the bang of the slamming door separated us, I heard Headmaster Lowell apologizing to Sterling.

Apologizing.

For my behavior.

I hated Sterling Lane with a white-hot rage that set my whole body on fire.

Air. I needed air. I was suffocating in that room. Choking on the hateful words and lies Sterling Lane had shoveled down my throat. I’d yelled at the headmaster—me. I couldn’t even process how many Rules I’d just broken, and for nothing. Cole was still in danger and now Headmaster Lowell thought I was attracted to a sociopath. My credibility was ruined.

Cole looked up as I ran past, but I couldn’t stop. Even when he reached out, trying to grab me. I surged down the hallway and crashed through the front door of the administrative building at full speed.

Desperate lungfuls of air weren’t enough to stop the panic. Rules 1 through 20 danced through my mind in backward order. Then forward. And backward again. I started to calm down as the Rules wrapped their reassuring arms around me.

Sterling Lane would pay. And pay. And pay again.

I just needed time to plot and plan and organize. And no matter what, I’d never tip my hand again. It was a mistake showing Sterling the photo and the cigarette butt. A master liar like him would always outmaneuver me in face-to-face situations. It was all too easy for him to antagonize and goad me into making a fool of myself.

I’d played right into his hands. Next time I would wait patiently and strike when he’d never see me coming. I’d strike without mercy.

One glance at my watch told me I’d missed 85 percent of history class, and I’d neglected to get a note to excuse me for being tardy. And then, inexplicably, I didn’t care. There was no way I’d give Sterling the satisfaction of seeing me slink back into the office to ask for one.

I leaned against the building, pressing my forehead into the cool brick facade. My breathing returned to normal, and my stomach crawled down out of my throat. I’d just started to feel like myself again when cold fingers curled gently around my elbow and guided me around.

I opened my eyes.

Sterling Lane was standing there. He held out a starched and folded white cloth handkerchief. When I shook my head, he pressed it into my open palm. Tears brimmed in my eyes and a few escaped down my cheeks. I hated him even more for seeing me that way.

“Walk with me,” he said, slipping one hand under my elbow.

“No.”

“I have a note excusing both of us from Mrs. Stevens’s class,” he said. The gentle pressure of his hand on my elbow towed me along two steps. “I suggest you come.”

I used his pretentious, monogrammed handkerchief to dry my cheeks as I fell into step beside him, chin aloft. I’d never again give him the satisfaction of seeing me vulnerable.

“I’m sorry we started off so badly, Harper,” he said.

“No, you’re not.”

“Actually, I really am. Because contrary to what you think, I’m not a sadistic person. I can’t afford to be expelled again.”

“Daddy will take away the trust fund?”

“Yes,” he answered. “But more importantly, my grandmother needs me. I can’t change schools again.”

Well, that wasn’t fighting fair. Although knowing him, he was just playing that card for sympathy.

“And I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I need. It’s how I was raised.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” I told him.

“It isn’t one,” he said. “It’s a fact. You see, my father isn’t a nice person.” We were halfway across the broad, grassy quad that separated the administrative building from the academic ones. I slowed my pace to match his, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible but also knowing that I needed the note he claimed to possess.

“Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.” I was proud I managed to match his apathetic tone despite the tumult raging through my insides. Two could play at that game.

If Sterling heard me, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Every year, he drags my brother and me on some commando-style ‘men’s trip’ to keep us from getting too soft. As if you learn to be a man by pissing in a stream and boiling water to brush your teeth.”

“So what?” I asked, failing to hide my interest. “Why should I care?”

“Because sweetheart, last year while sweating my ass off in some godforsaken Peruvian jungle, I stumbled upon a pearl of wisdom that you’re desperately lacking.”

A little shiver ran down my spine when he paused on the sidewalk and looked at me, standing so close I could see the stubble along his jaw. It was oddly out of place in his new, über-groomed appearance. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite remove all lingering traces of laziness. He released my arm, sensing instinctually that I was locked in place by my curiosity.

“We went out one night in this rickety canoe, looking for alligators. Because our guide was a lunatic. We paddled right through this tall grass, shining flashlights into the faces of the alligators floating around us, watching us. Their eyes reflected the beam—lit up like a strand of Christmas tree lights on the surface of the water. It was actually a stunning sight.” He smiled a little. “Then all of a sudden, the guide reaches down and grabs one. Just grabs the alligator and rips it out of the water. And it’s tiny, a baby. But it lashes and snaps and tries to rip our hands off. Which was pretty awe-inspiring when you think about it—that kind of spirit.

“The guide taught us how to hold it behind the jaw so it couldn’t bite. Then we started up again, and after about twenty minutes, my ape of a brother reaches down and tries to grab the tail of what looked like a smallish alligator, floating right in the reeds. And the guide sees him and knocks him away, onto the bottom of the canoe just as the head of the biggest fucking alligator I’ve ever seen surfaces, with teeth like steak knives, and lunges at the side of the boat. It could have eaten my brother whole. Not that I would have cared.”

Sterling paused. I cleared my throat, impatient for him to get to the point. It was destabilizing, standing so close to him. When he stopped talking, his proximity was all I could think about. There was nothing to occupy the space between us but his words.

“Then the guide stands up in the canoe all crazy-eyed, waving around a serial-killer machete. And he picks my brother up by the front of his shirt and says, ‘Never grab a gator’s tail unless you can see the whole of the beast. Because the tip of the tail is the narrowest part. It’s deceptive. And the teeth will come crashing round faster than you can blink.’”

Suddenly, it seemed like Sterling was looming over me. Since he never stood up straight, I’d never realized he was so tall and broad-shouldered.

“And now, Harper Campbell, even if you didn’t fully understand the ramifications of what you just did, like my idiot brother, you pulled the alligator’s tail. Here come the teeth.”

We stood there in silence for a beat, just long enough for all 537 of my Rules to roar back in solidarity. Sterling Lane would do anything to win, as he’d just shown. But in that moment, I realized I would, too.

“Is that some sort of threat?” I asked. My joints felt like jelly as I lifted my chin and met his gaze. I would never again let him realize his effect on me. “Because you have no idea who you’re messing with. Whatever you do, I’ll throw back at you tenfold. And that’s a promise.”

His brown eyes widened as I took a step closer, just to show him I wouldn’t back down. “So tread carefully, Sterling Lane,” I added. “You don’t need another enemy. Especially one like me.”