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That night, I touched myself and thought of him. Tangled in the bedsheets in a room I shared with three other girls, I was still and quiet. I hoped no one would see.
When I came, I buried my face in the pillow. It was so much more intense, thinking of Will. So wrong. So…forbidden.
I didn’t even like him.
Yet when I heard him whispering Someone’s been a bad girl, it sent me over the edge.
* * *
The next morning, I got up early, dressed and packed in silence, and tiptoed downstairs. I wanted to avoid seeing my cousin or anyone else, and I had to figure out how to get to the train station.
I was surprised to see a middle-aged woman making breakfast. She greeted me with a calm “Good morning” and made a short phone call.
“Your car will be here soon, miss,” she said. “Would you like breakfast before you go?”
“My car?” I looked around the kitchen and back to her, confused.
“Arrangements have been made.”
By Will? I wondered. Why would he help me, after I’d run from him last night? Was he going to say goodbye? Did I even want his help? My stomach clenched.
The woman gestured toward a bubbling coffee maker. “Coffee?”
The aroma filled the kitchen. Too startled to say no, I accepted a cup with cream and thanked her. Everything about this situation was surreal. She declined my offer to help with breakfast, looking amused, and glanced out the front windows.
“Your ride is here. This is for you.” She handed me an envelope that said Andie on the front. “Safe travels.”
“I don’t understand.”
A flicker crossed her face. “Take care,” was all she said, her expression going neutral.
I wondered how she felt about working here, in the midst of a bunch of debauched teenagers. I wondered if she’d cleaned up my spilled drink and smashed glass by the pool the night before, and I thought about apologizing. But the words stuck in my throat, and I hurried outside with my duffel bag and the envelope.
The town car waited at the curb, with the same driver who’d brought me from the station. Crisply dressed in a dark suit, he opened the back door for me.
“Do you know what time the next train is?” I asked, as the car purred away from the curb. “They probably don’t run this early on Saturdays…”
My voice trailed off as the driver gave me a strange look in the rearview mirror. “My instructions are to take you home.”
“Home? But that’s over two hours away.”
“Those are my instructions.”
“But I’m sure that’s really expensive. I can’t— I’m sorry, I can’t afford it.”
His eyebrows lifted. The same amused expression crossed his face that I’d seen on the housekeeper when I’d offered to help with breakfast.
“Don’t worry, miss. It’s been taken care of.”
“By who?” I blurted.
“I’m not at liberty to say. Please make yourself comfortable.”
I ripped open the envelope. Inside was a piece of actual ivory-colored stationery with an embossed monogram. I scoffed when I saw WHR — Will’s initials, William Henry Randolph — but the laughter died on my lips when I read what followed.
You look sexy when you run, little cousin.
Heat rushed to my face.
