I thought wearing black clothes, eyeliner, and making up elaborate stories about my summer in Brazil for fellow students who didn’t care would show him how much I’d changed. But he kept challenging every syllable to come out of my mouth.

It was time to fight back.

“You know what? I think a lesson in oral is an excellent idea. And who could teach it better than the expert?” I shot to my feet, pushing my tray aside.

I had actually been enjoying my pizza before he arrived, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. I also knew my calling him an expert was getting dangerously close to the truth about what had happened in the darkroom that day.

“Shall I bring a notebook to take pointers? Perhaps an iPad?” I smiled, blinking angelically at him.

“Just your smart ass.”

If Vaughn was confused and taken aback, he didn’t show it. Poppy, however, shot up in an instant.

“Lenny!” She slapped her heart. “Why would you ever—”

“Go back to pretending you have a personality, soul, or prospects that do not include marrying a rich, fat asshole who’s going to cheat on you with his secretary and give you ugly-ass kids, Daffodil,” Vaughn barked at my sister, his icicle eyes still holding mine. “This is between me and your sister.”

“It’s Poppy!” she exclaimed, Knight tugging her by the hem of her skirt to sit back down.

“Because that was the entire fucking problem with what I just told you.” Vaughn’s mouth twitched in menace.

I grabbed my Sprayground shark backpack and followed Vaughn out of the cafeteria, acutely aware that all eyes were pointed at our backs as we exited through the double doors.

Knight’s voice rang behind me, gruff, low, and lazy. “Y’all gonna slow-dance to a Billy Joel song? If so, don’t forget to leave room for Jesus. And Moses. And Muhammad. And also Post Malone, because hey, he’s kind of a religion now, too.”

As we filed into the buzzing hallway, I couldn’t help but notice how tall Vaughn had become. Whether he ate at school or not, the boy ate, all right. He filled his clothes nicely. He wasn’t beefy by any stretch of the imagination, but muscular, with sinewy dexterity and the grace of an archer. In fact, there was nothing boyish about him anymore. He was all man, and it was ironic that he reminded me so much of the iconic, imperial statues he carved.

“What’s good, Good Girl? I mean, other than your untouched hymen,” he asked, gliding along the hall, looking for Alice.

I found it hard to believe he’d be able to rip her from her boyfriend’s arms, but stranger things had happened where Vaughn Spencer was concerned. Plus, I knew Alice. She fancied Vaughn for all his eccentric, tyrannical behavior.

“Spare me the bullshit, Vaughn. You hate me.”

“Hate you?” he mused in Thinker pose, fist curled under his square chin. “No, that requires commitment. I find you embarrassingly disposable. Are you going to chicken out on me, Astalis?”

“No,” I clipped. “You seem eager to show everyone your willy. You are aware fifty percent of the world population is male, right? Your cock is not a national treasure.”

“Don’t slam it before you’ve tasted it.” His jaw twitched, and he seemed done with the conversation.

I’d hit a nerve. Why was Vaughn so fond of having an audience when he was intimate with girls?

And while we were on the subject—why did he choose the least intimate way to be intimate with girls? One that didn’t require him to touch, to caress, to reciprocate?

A few seconds of silence passed before he rounded a corner and snapped his fingers, motioning for me to follow him.

Alice.

“You really think a girl who is with someone is going to suck you off? On school grounds? While people are watching?” I couldn’t help but blurt.

“Yes.”

“Is this a game to you?”

“If it was, I’d be dealing you the fucking cards. Now shut up.”

I’d heard all about Vaughn and public blow jobs. There wasn’t one person in this school—other than me—who hadn’t seen the shape and size of his (allegedly impressive) penis disappearing down a girl’s throat. Sometimes there were two of them, licking and taking turns. People said it was because he was handsome, unconventional, and the richest boy in town, that every girl secretly wanted to marry into the Spencer family, who were royalty by name, assets, and reputation. They were old money—railroads, prime realty, and hedge fund companies—and one of America’s top twenty-five richest families.

His ancestors had built this town, and he was going to inherit most of it.

But I thought there were other reasons girls gave Vaughn what he wanted.

Essentially, deep down, we all liked to be sexually degraded, just a bit. The taboo aspect, the helplessness, the part where you’re at the complete mercy of someone else.

We’re all a little sadomasochistic.

Especially when young.

And powerful.

And beautiful.

And rich.

The numbness of a charmed life was easily taken away by shame, something Vaughn distributed in spades. He liked humiliating people. A lot.

Vaughn stopped in front of a set of black and navy lockers. Alice was wearing a sweetheart-neckline flowery dress with puffy sleeves and a slit across the side. The guy next to her was a bit on the short side, and he looked moneyed to death, with an expensive haircut and a smart, navy blazer. He had kind, brown eyes and a quirky vibe.

“Alice,” Vaughn hissed, ignoring the guy.

“Oh, hey Spence.” She blew a lock of her short hair away from her eyes, her pink lips curling in delight.

I wanted to throw up when she leaned forward to give him a peck on the cheek, shaking her boyfriend’s arm from her waist.

“I can fit in a quick blow job in the next ten minutes. Rookie here needs to take pointers.” Vaughn threw a thumb behind him, toward me.

Alice’s gaze collided with mine, and her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

You and me both, girl.

“Ummm…” She glanced at the guy next to her, biting on the side of her fingernail.

His eyes were widening slowly, shock seeping into his system. She was going to ditch him. The worst part about it, she wasn’t even considering telling Vaughn to bugger off. Her eyes said I’m sorry, not Would you mind?

“Jason…” she started.

I wanted to punch her on his behalf, bile rising in my throat like an overflowing saucepan. He stared at her, agony dripping from his expression, wordlessly pleading with her not to finish the sentence.

“Practice makes perfect, though, right?” I interjected with a chirp, taking a step forward. “And since Alice is oh so kind as to demonstrate her flawless oral-giving technique on Vaughn, would you mind being my guinea pig, Jason?” I unzipped my leather jacket, shrugging out of it and flinging it over my shoulder. I offered him my hand for a shake.

It was perfect, really—the look of horror on Alice’s face when Jason threw a look at Vaughn, whose jaw was ticking, and took my hand, shaking it limply.

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be watching.” I patted Vaughn’s back, keeping my tone light as the four of us headed down the corridor to God knows where. “Although, I may have a few tricks up my sleeve.” I winked.