The Forever Crew (Adamson All-Boys Academy, #3)

by C.M. Stunich

“You've got us now, and only a complete moron would bother the Student Council's girl.” “The Student Council's girl?” I say skeptically, but … it's pretty much true, isn't it? “But it would get more eyes on you,” Church continues, pushing off the wall to open the door for the twins. He must be, like, psychic or something, because they didn't even get a chance to knock.

“The more people that are looking at her, the more she stands out, the less she can be targeted in the shadows.” He slides his palms down the lapels of his fancy pj shirt. “It's a solid idea, my darling.” “Your darling?” the twins echo, making faces and then sticking their tongues out. “Gross.” “It may be, Churchie-poo,” I retort, and both Ranger and Spencer join in in looking squicked out as I pick up the ring box and flick the lid open, examining the pink diamond inside. “But I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with attention from the entire school.”

But it's also his fierce determination and overprotectiveness that make him likable. And also, lickable. Notice how those words are only one letter apart from each other.

Ranger stares across the room at me. Maybe he can tell I'm actually entertaining the ridiculous thought of attending Adamson in a skirt? I must be slowly losing it.

“Gerald Mikel used to bring decaf coffee to meetings,” Church says, narrowing his eyes in just such a way that says that's most definitely an unacceptable and inexcusable action. “I never liked him.”

“Mark called me a gold-digging faggot on Monday, does that count?” “Let's beat him up,” the twins say, and I smile. It's sort of their, like, motto or something. “This is getting way out of control. Mark used to know how to toe the line, but now he just insults our girlfriend and gets away with it? I don't like that,” Spencer says, tucking his hands together behind his head and frowning hard. “Don't forget,” the twins say, each lifting up a single finger in the air. “He's guilty. We're sure of it.”

finally pouring a mug of coffee and then, contrary to his usual character, he douses it with cream and sugar before coming over to stand in front of me. He offers up the mug while the other four boys gape at us like we've just started having a wild rut in front of them. This time, when Church hands me the cup and tries to keep our fingers from touching, I thread mine through his and he goes completely still. Our eyes meet, and a hot cord of tension runs between us, invisible but powerful and potent anyway.

He also made miniature fondant squirrels to stick on some cupcakes. Don’t think I missed him blushing while he examined their cuteness. P.S. They had sparkly tails, too.

Yeah, yeah, I know he's handsome, but he hates most people, and you wouldn't understand the naked baking thing the way I do.

“And let me deal with the girls, okay? They're nowhere near as cute as you, and you know how much I like cute things.”

Ranger is … such an unexpected treat, isn't he? He always said I was ugly in my glasses and baggy uniform and mussy hair, but he thought I was fucking cute.

I never wanted to attend Adamson as a girl. But now that there are other girls preparing to come here? It feels like a challenge. Okay, that’s it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to attend Adamson in a fucking skirt. Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.

“Meaning I was going to throw you over the counter, slap your ass and leave a flour handprint, and then probably fuck you in that apron.”

“You should be clearer next time then,” he says, the slightest hint of a laugh in his voice. “Because I could’ve described my fantasies in a hell of a lot more detail than that.” “I was just wondering why you thought you needed to be a gentleman,”

“But I guess, since we have talked about it … it wouldn’t be so wrong.” “Are you saying you want to naked bake with me?” I whisper back, just before we hear the sound of footsteps on gravel and turn to see a boy that looks like an older version of Spencer Hargrove standing on the path nearby.

Of course, I'm having trouble concentrating on all of that because I'm a romance addict who can't stop thinking about Ranger's-threats-that-should-be-promises. Flour handprint? Yes, please. I've never been spanked before, I think absently, fidgeting on the loose pebbles of the pathway.

“I was hoping I could talk to Spence real quick?” he says, eyes darting around nervously. Ranger notices. I mean, if my oblivious ass notices, then the dark, observant eyes of my new boyfriend definitely won't miss a move as obvious as that.

“Wow, I've heard that fags like to sleep around, but Chuck puts the uck in fuck, am I right?” Mark snickers as Ranger freezes in place, turning his head around to look at the football playing dickhead.

“As lame as that sentence is, I'm still going to kick your ass for it.” Ranger pushes the jacket and uniform into my arms and then grabs Mark by his tie, choking him as he drags him over the back of the couch. Without skipping a beat, I whip my phone from my pocket and dial up Church. “Ranger and Mark, lounge room,” I say without waiting for his greeting.

the sound Mark makes … is kind of like a dying giraffe. I mean, not that I know what a dying giraffe sounds like, but it’s high and keening and weird. Guess that hurt.

“Tsk-tsk, Mr. Woodruff,” Church says, appearing like a summoned specter at the bottom of the staircase. Like, he didn't even have to rush to get down here. “Violence isn't the answer, even when dealing with bigots, homophobes, and idiots.”

“You heard him, you psycho. Get the fuck off of me.” Luckily, the twins and Spencer appear at the bottom of the steps, panting, and ready to fight, evening the odds a bit. Seven of them, six of us, although I'll be the first to admit that I'm a tad useless. I do however, have that pepper spray and Taser on me.

“Let him go. People who hate from a place of ignorance can't be beaten into submission; they need to be educated.” “Spoken like a prissy little girl,” Mark spits, and Ranger just loses his shit, punching the asshole again. The two groups of boys come together in a raucous of flying fists, and for the first time ever, I get to see what Church can really do. Eugene's taunts echo in my mind: “Right. One of your cronies, but never you personally, huh? Are you scared to fight Church?” Two of the guys come our way and my hand reaches down to the weapons in my pockets. I don't get the chance to use them, however. In the blink of an eye, Church is moving between our would-be attackers, and then they're both lying on the floor holding their throats and coughing. What. in. the. actual. fuck?! “Krav Maga,” Church explains casually, naming a type of military self-defense from Israel, and turning to look back at my shocked face with a smile. “I've been taking lessons three times a week for years.”

Church steps to the side, blocks the blow with his forearm, and then hits him in the face with a punch that drops the kid to the floor. “Oh, my poor, sweet ovaries,” I murmur, because even though I know that violence isn't the answer to my problems, it's still pretty hot to see the guys I like kick serious ass.

Ranger puts the last of the eggs in a basket, and then glances down at the little yellow chicks chirping near his boots. His cheeks flush for a moment, but when he sees me looking, he storms over and grabs my hand, putting the basket in it and taking the broom from me. “Go deliver these to the kitchen, and I'll finish this up.”

“This is a bunch of patriarchal bullshit. This doesn't make me a girl. I just … it's like armor or something, okay? I feel calmer wearing it. I want to wear it. That's feminism right there: choice.”

I toss off the jacket, fixing my hair in a handheld mirror while all five guys stare at me. “What?” I ask, popping my lips to even out my lip gloss. With a sigh, I put a fist on my hip, my pleated skirt swishing with the movement. “Come on, it's not like you guys haven't seen me all dolled up before.” “No, but …” Spencer starts, lifting up a finger and then dropping his hand by his side. His dopey lovestruck grin fades into a smirk. “It's just, our little Chuck-let is all grown-up and tackling Adamson in a skirt. It's a proud, but scary moment for your harem.” “My … what?!” I choke out as Ranger grits his teeth, Church raises a brow, and the twins grin. “We're living a reverse harem,” they say in unison, nodding and then exchanging a look.

I'm pretty sure gender is just a ridiculous social construct, but also … the world sometimes subscribes to social constructs, and I'm standing knee-deep in the middle of it.

We manage to make it through an awkward breakfast in the cafeteria with everyone staring at me before my dad finally shows up, his face that funny purple-red color, eye twitching. “Charlotte Carson,” he warns as I push my breakfast tray forward and stand up, lifting my chin in defiance.

Dad's hand lashes out and he grabs me by the upper arm, dragging me down the hallway as I struggle against his grip. The cafeteria door opens a second later, and there are the boys, with Ranger in the lead. He looks about two seconds from tearing my dad's hand off my arm, but I wave him away and follow Archie outside.

“Somebody wants to kill me,” I blurt back at him, and he cringes. Cringes. My dad, Archibald Charlie Carson. It's enough to make me take a step back. “Yes, Charlotte, somebody does.” A long pause follows with us staring at one another, my eye twitching in the same way his does. Nature or nurture, I got it from him. “Wait, I'm sorry, what did you just say?” I ask, tugging on the little diamond stud in my ear, a fifteenth birthday present from Monica. “Pretty sure I just heard you agree with me.”

I'd love to go to college with my boys. My cheeks flush bright as I realize what I've just said. My boys. Mine. Ugh. Told ya I'd fall in love with every boy. I'm a sucker for romance.

“Pretending to date them all like this.” “Uh, believe it or not, my dating them has nothing to do with you,” I snap, frowning hard. “And don't think I'm just going to walk away and let this whole thing go. You know someone's trying to kill me, and you're not going to do anything about it?” Dad looks back at me, and I can tell by the expression on his face that he's scared for me, really and truly terrified. “I'd give my life to protect you, Charlotte,”

“Pretty sure my dad just admitted that someone's trying to murder me,” I hedge, and we all go quiet for a moment. It's one thing to suspect something, and it's another to have it confirmed. Fantastic. Senior year, in a skirt, five boyfriends, three murderers on my tail. This should be fun.

“Well, well, who knew Chuck Carson was actually so fuckable underneath those ugly glasses?” He reaches out to touch my hair and I smack his hand away, making him and all of his stupid friends laugh. “What's the matter, Chuck? I thought you liked dick. You're already screwing five different guys, so what's one more?” “Nice to know that you're a homophobe and a sexist pig,”

He was insufferable last year. This year, he's a total nightmare. I'd love nothing more than to kick him in the balls—if he has any, that is.

stepping closer to me, trying to intimidate me with his size. Too bad. I'm not afraid of him. Without even stopping to think, I reach out with both palms and shove him as hard as I can, knocking him back several steps and into his football buddies.

Mr. Murphy looks resigned, like actually writing someone up might set off an anxiety attack or something. At least he looks like he’d actually do it—it’d be his first time, by the way, ever writing a student up.

Surreptitiously, Ranger leans over and pushes one of his homemade granola bars into my hand, carefully wrapped in that reusable beeswax food covering he likes so much, and tied with a dainty pink ribbon. My cheeks turn about that same color as I clutch it to my chest. Church, meanwhile, hands over one of the two white chocolate mochas in his hands, the kind that Merinda only makes for him. I just barely resist the urge to hop up and down. Church can tell, I’m sure, and he smiles in that way only he can—like a smile means everything.

While we stand there, in various states of awkwardness (me), anger (Ranger), and curiosity (everyone else),

He looks so … aristocratic. And knowing that he's like, some badass martial arts expert? Be still my beating heart.

His attention flicks to me, and I swallow. He thought he’d scared me before? Nuh-uh. Maybe a little bit now though. Yeah, and you’re like, excited by it. Thirsty bitch. “I need to get naked.” He’s quivering now, and yet all I can think is: how much can you love a guy who gets naked, dons frilly aprons, and bakes his anger out? The answer being: with everything you have. I bite my lip.

On Sunday, when Jack comes back, I’m leaving. I’d go sooner, but I can’t very well send for a car, now can I? Because he’ll know. And he’ll never let me go. Neither of them will. They said to each other, “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that plunder the vineyards; for our vineyards are in blossom.”

“Chuck, if you wouldn’t mind …” he grinds out, as I blink in surprise at his glorious backside. “I’m not touching your balls,” I choke back, gesturing at the other boys. “Especially not in front of them.” “Oh god, Chuck-let,” Spencer groans, running a hand down his face. Church and the twins just smile as my face turns a brilliant ruby red. “He wants you to tie his apron, my sweet little micropenis.” “But it’s nice that you’re thinking about my balls,” Ranger deadpans, looking over his shoulder at me, eyes dark.

My first day attending Adamson as a girl, my first time hugging Ranger Woodruff in the nude. Oh, and cults. Don’t forget about the cult. What a day.

He's a good man, but a skittish one. A kind heart does not a warrior make.

“You want us to leave?” the twins ask in unison, exchanging a look. “If you need space, that's under—” I start, when Ranger grabs me around the wrist and yanks me toward him, looking down at my face with a searing heat that has my throat closing up and my pulse pounding. Uh-oh. That's not a good look, not a good look at all. “Out,” Ranger repeats, holding me close and giving the other boys one of his signature glares. “You can wait in the hall, if you want.” “Wait in the hall for what?” I choke out as Spencer sighs and rakes the fingers of both hands through his hair. “Five for five,” he murmurs under his breath, giving me a look that says good luck, Chuck. “I'd rather you guys didn't get murdered on the way back to the dorms, so we'll wait. Just don't take too long.” “Don't take too short either,” Micah says with a bit of a smirk, excusing himself into the hallway. Tobias lags behind slightly, giving me a smile and then pulling out a handful of condoms from his pocket. He leaves them on the counter as the color drains from my face.

Church moves toward the door, pausing just once to look back at us with amber eyes and a bright smile. “If you don't check in with me after an hour, I'm coming up to get you both.” “Might be longer than an hour,” Ranger says as Church grins

“Now get naked and put on an apron.” I shiver with delight as he goes to move away and then pauses, turning back just briefly to press a soft kiss to my forehead. I notice that before he gets out the newest batch of ingredients, he pauses to put Tobias' proffered condoms into the pocket on his apron. Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, I get to do it with Ranger Woodruff!

Ranger finishes unbuttoning my shirt and then pushes it off my shoulders. As soon as he sees the bright blue bra with the tiny pink bow that I'm wearing underneath, his cheeks heat up. “Fuck, that's adorable,”