Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

Siblings and SnapChat

"I asked my mom."

"Sorry?" As far as I know, Sam's parents are back in New York and neither of them work at Ryder.

"You've been to Hollinger Hall, right?"

"Of course." All the language arts classes are in Hollinger.

"And the C.H. Field House?"

"Yes," I say, drawing the word out. "Where are you going with this?"

Sam gives me an uncomfortable grin before holding his hand out like he wants me to shake it. "Samuel Hollinger Evans," he announces.

It takes a second to process. Constance Hollinger, the woman—and money—behind both Hollinger Hall and the CH Field House is a famous author and playwright who attended Ryder more than 20 years ago. Aside from that, I don't know anything about her.

"I'm still confused," I hedge. "Your mom is Constance Hollinger..."

"So far so good," Sam encourages sarcastically, dropping his hand. I flash him a glare.

"...But I don't get how that keeps me at Ryder."

Sam rolls his eyes. "My mom's donated a lot of money to this school over the years. It means everything to her. And she's basically the poster alum. Ryder's always asking her to speak at graduations and conferences and shit."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me."

"Let me finish." Sam says. "I asked her to talk to Carr about keeping you at the school and she did. And here you are. With me."

"I have a lot of questions." And I want to ask them rather than focusing on the throbbing need that's settled between my legs at his admission.

Sam sighs, exasperated. "Of course you do."

I let loose. "How did you convince her it was a good idea? Wasn't she pissed that a girl was sharing the room with her only son? What did she have to do to convince Carr? Isn't she annoyed that I never said thank you? God, I can't believe I didn't know about this."

Sam ignores all my questions. "What makes you think I'm her only son?"

"Really? That's what you're answering?'"

"No," Sam says, his voice adopting the cocky tone that shouldn't make me crazy with need but does. "I'm done answering your questions tonight. I just want to know why you think I'm my mom's only son."

"Because you act like an only child."

He looks affronted and it makes me laugh. "How?" He demands.

I shake my head. "Where to start? The cocky, 'I'm-the-center-of-everyone's-universe' attitude, the constant preening in the mirror, the 'look-at-me-I'm-tough' lip ring. Ooh! The way you glance around when you make a bad joke like everyone should be in stitches. "

"Okay, enough." Sam's laughing as he launches himself at me, putting a hand over my mouth.

I raise my voice, speaking around it. "The way you saunter around campus like someone's following you with a camera."

"I do not saunter like someone's following me!"

"With a camera," I remind, still giggling into Sam's palm, which is warm and calloused against my lips. Abruptly, surprising even myself, I purse my lips together, kissing the inside of his hand. He pulls back as if electrified, glancing between it and my lips.