Crown of Thorns

“Your cousin?”

She regards me with an arched brow, as if this is information I should already know. “Phoenix.” The duh is clearly implied.

“Wait, he’s your cousin?” I squeak.

Clamping her eyes shut, she shakes her head. “I don’t know whether to be disturbed by the fact you literally look nobody up or impressed that you take that staying in your own lane shit to extremes.” She looks at me again, her expression dead serious. “Yes, Josslyn, he’s my cousin, and that’s why I’m warning you. I don’t particularly like your friend, but I dislike him more. He’s that prick who’ll go out of his way to find, maim, and ruin just because he’s bored. I’ve seen him do it because I’m forced to live with him.”

I blink and Reina snorts.

“Yeah, I got it, you didn’t know I lived with the Townsends. I swear to God I’m going to print you a dossier on everyone in this school. Me, orphan.” Pausing, Reina points to herself. “Phoenix and Gideon, dick cousins whose family took me in. What I’m getting at is your friend is expendable to Phoenix. She will do something that pisses him off and you’ll be guilty by association. Even you saw what he did to Daria Howard yesterday.”

The promise ring girl. I hadn’t seen her today, but I’ve admittedly been in my only little world and mentally invested in the train wreck that is my brother.

“In case you’re wondering, she left,” Reina informs me. “Her parents pulled her after that demon-bitch Kallista posted the whole sordid exchange on Insta.”

Damn.

“Do you think—” I start, but the tardy bell rings for fourth block and mayhem unfolds around us as everyone rushes to class. Casting Reina a parting look, I promise, “I’ll talk to Margaret.”

“Please do. I actually like your clueless ass.”

Coming from her, that’s a compliment.

Once I reach Spanish, I make a beeline for my seat, avoiding gazing around the room. It’ll just a

Taking my seat, I duck my head and wait quietly for Mrs. De León to start class. She sweeps into the room a few minutes later and shoots a disapproving glare at the chattering and commotion happening all around Phoenix’s desk.

“Silencio,” she orders, and everyone does what they’re told, though there’s plenty of grumbling and eye-rolling. Phoenix lounges back in his chair, an expression of pure boredom taking over his features. I can’t help but steal a few glances his way as the lesson begins and Mrs. De León starts a film about making cultural co

“I’m going to pair you up, and you and your partner are going to brainstorm a list of ten true and false questions based on what you just watched,” she a

I tense up as she starts to choose pairs and hold my breath, waiting to see who she forces on me. When she a

Shit, shit, shit.

After she finishes giving everyone their partners, she instructs us to get to work. Phoenix green eyes land on me and narrow, but I don’t move. He waits a few seconds, then squares his jaw. Unfolding his tall, muscular frame from his seat, he prowls toward me, grabs a chair from a neighboring desk, and spins it around before settling in it. This gives me a whiff of his cologne—something warm and woodsy with a hint of caramel. Whatever it is, it works for him. Makes me want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck just to get another hit.

My throat goes a little dry at that thought, so I clear it, which arches his eyebrows.

Then, unloosening his gray, white, and navy uniform tie, he sits in total silence.

My hand trembles as I grab my pen from the corner of my desk. “Okay, maybe we should start by—”

“You don’t know how this works, do you?” he suddenly demands, his tone deep and rough. I freeze, and he offers me a lazy grin as he lowers his eyes to my open binder. “I supervise. You let me know when you’re done, señorita.”

The song is wrong—I hate it when he calls me that. Hate the goose bumps that pebble my skin and the way my pulse flickers, almost like this is the first time it’s come to life in months. Disdain, I tell myself. Because he’s a foul person.

My erratic pulse has zero to do with the rumble of his voice or the way he smells or the fact I was just thinking about sniffing the evil bastard because of said aroma.

“What are you waiting for?” Slanting me with an impatient look, he traces a P on the edge of my blank paper with his fingertip, as if he’s branding my belongings. “Shit’s not going to write itself.”

I swallow around the dryness that’s still in the back of my throat. “Wh-what?”

His expression is borderline patronizing. “Fuck, the bar at Ravenwood must’ve been six feet under the school. Isn’t this your sort of thing, Luna?”

“You expect me to do all the Spanish work because my last name is Luna?” I come close to pointing out that it’s also Italian, but I stop myself since I’m both. He doesn’t need to know that. In fact, the less he knows about me, the better. Before my brain has a chance to catch up with my mouth, I add on a hiss, “Isn’t that pretty screwed-up, even for someone like you?”

For the briefest moment, he looks somewhat surprised—his full lips part and his green eyes widen. His frigid veneer slips firmly back in place before I can blink an eye. This time, he tosses in a mocking smile.

“Aren’t you just full of dumb-fuck assumptions? Sadly, you’re giving yourself too much credit because I don’t give a shit about the results of your 23 and Me. I’m telling you to do the assignment because someone like me has no interest. That’s what you’re here for.” He flicks the frayed cover of my used textbook. “Where do you think financial aid comes from, Luna?”

Holy shit, I completely underestimated the ego on this guy, which is really saying something. I swear I can hear the plastic of my pen cracking beneath my fingertips, so I drop it on my binder. “You know nothing about me.”

He crosses his arms and regards me like I’m an a

For the first time, I realize I’ve probably been clutching my charm bracelet ever since I dropped the damn pen. The bracelet belonged to my mom, so Phoenix’s insult makes me want to punch him right in his perfect, evil teeth.

Except, I’ve never punched anyone in my life.

And I have a sinking feeling that if I were to hit him, he really would flatten me.

Releasing my bracelet, I place my hands on my desk. “If I’m so worthless, what makes you think I’ll do your work for you?”

The second I say it, I know I’ve made a mistake. His dark eyebrows furrow, then release, and a slow smile creeps across his features. “Never said you were worthless. You must be getting me confused with someone else in your sad, proletariat life. Besides, we’ve discussed why you’re going to do the work—you’re won’t risk the bad grade because Thornwood is your out.”