*Rolls out of the fucking grave after 2 years* So... I got an amazing email from PAST3LTH3UNICORN a few weeks back asking me to update-- So I did.

On the Monday following the shit-fiasco party that Shawn and I went through on Friday, the school board finally found a place where we could hold our classes until a new campus was complete (because the old campus fucking blew up with a flare of fireworks). Our new academic campus was basically just portable classrooms smacked onto an empty field.

On top of that, the school board sent out the following email that read:

Dear students of Prest High-School,

Due to recent surprising and unfortunate events, we have decided to chaperone a school trip this Friday to reunite as a school community. Thanks to a gracious donor, we are able to rent out beach space in Santa Cruz. This Friday at 8:30AM, we would like all students to please meet at our original campus, and then and join with your first-period class for attendance. After this, we will board the buses and be at the beach until roughly 4:00PM.

We hope to see you all there,

Principal Timmons

"Should we go?" Shawn asked after a moment. I was reading the email over his shoulder as he sat on the couch with his laptop.

"Beats being locked up in the house all day." I shrugged. "Also, I don't think it's optional."

"So? We still don't really need to go. This is just a stupid thing that the school feels obliged to do to show everyone that they care about their students' wellbeing. I've seen this before; it's just a half-ass attempt at trying to make everyone feel safe and cared about." Shawn rolled his eyes.

I was about to ask how and why he'd 'seen it before', but realized that I probably knew the answer and definitely didn't want to bring it up. "You're probably right, but I haven't seen my friends in a long time— I want to make sure they're all okay," I said. I also wanted to see if Las Vegas would show up; the longer I didn't hear from him, the more worried I got.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "You really want to be stuck on a beach all day with three thousand other kids?" He asked.

Okay. Why the fuck was he trying to convince me not to go? I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're not fooling anyone; why do you actually not want us to go?" I asked, getting right to the point.

"Because it's fucking pointless." He insisted, giving me a weird look.

I sighed and sat back on the couch. "Is it because you like it that I'm forced to be around you all the time while we're both grounded in the house and you don't want me to spend time with my friends instead of you?" I guessed.

Shawn stared at me for a moment before breathing out a sigh of defeat. "That, and because I don't want you to meet up with Las Vegas again," he said with an irritated frown. "We should just stay here in our love nest."

"My house isn't a damn love nest," I grumbled, smacking Shawn with a pillow.

He sighed dramatically. "Why can't we just go on a beach date just the two of us?"

"Because one; we're not dating, two; we're grounded, and three; you probably have some cruise liner that you're just waiting to kidnap me with." I listed.

"Nah, I only have a yacht." Shawn replied with a shrug. He grinned at me. "But if you'd rather be whisked away by a cruise liner, I could-"

"No thanks." I snapped, cutting him short. "Save your money for more important shit."

"Like what?" Shawn asked doubtfully.

"I don't know—you're future?" I scrunched my nose. "Not a swanky boat?"

"A swanky boat for you." He said, as if that made all the difference.

I blanched. "Seriously, how much money could you possibly have to blow on me?" I asked. Someone so dangerous having so much money was a bit of a concern.

"All of it." He responded immediately.

Of course. "How much money do you have?" I asked. "...A couple hundred thousand?" I estimated.

He laughed. "Try a few million." He said in a haughty tone. I almost choked on my saliva.

I gaped at him. "How... how the fuck do you have so much money!?" I didn't remember his parents being loaded when we were in middle school. "It can't just be from contract killing, can it?" I asked.

Shawn smirked, reclining back on the sofa. "Nope. Let's just say that I'm good at predicting rises and declines in stock."

I frowned, brows furrowed. Even if he was smart as hell, how could he get so much money just off a few years of smart stock investments? He would have to—Oh. Unless... "Are you a fucking insider?"

Shawn grinned. "You sure catch on quick, Jakey."

Ugh, it made so much sense! If he was a contract killer for the rich, it wouldn't be that hard for a smart fucker like him to get insider information out of them so he could make a few thousand more easy bucks. "Next thing you're gonna tell me is that you already have a damned Ph.D. already and that you're only going to high-school for kicks." I muttered.

Shawn let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Please; I'm not even going to college." He scoffed.

I frowned. "Why not?" I asked in surprise. He was so fucking smart! Sure– he killed and stalked the innocent and got his money off of contract killing, but he couldn't seriously be planning on doing that for the rest of his life!

He winked. "I like to stick at what I'm good at— and what I enjoy. That just happens to be cold-blooded murder. Why go to college when I already make more than I ever could with a college degree and 'honest job'?" He asked, and then paused to think. "Modeling is a good alternative, though."

"Well, I definitely want to go to college," I said hesitantly. I knew full well that one wrong word would lead to more threats of abduction—and probably actual abduction if I said something that really pissed him off.

Shawn looked confused. "Why? If it's to make money, then I—"

"It's not to make money," I said, rolling my eyes. "I just... want to go." I studied his expression for warning signs, but he just looked thoughtful.

A smile crept onto his face. "Aw, my Jakey is so much more studious than I gave him credit for."

I sighed. "Don't get gross." I tried to read his expression, but he wouldn't stop fucking smiling like a creep. I swallowed. "Do you... plan on me able to go to college?" I asked, terrified of the answer. My life may as well have been over if he said no; I hated to admit it, but if he decided to abduct me right then and there, I probably couldn't stop him.

Shawn remained smiling. He tilted his head. "I'm not sure."

My stomach dropped. Okay—I could deal with that. It was an 'I might end up kidnapping you before you get the chance to have a future,' but not a 'your ass is getting confined in another bunker before you so much as send a college application.' I could work with that. I bit my lip. "Okay."

Shawn's eyes glinted with something dangerous. "You do want to go to college for the academics, right? Nothing else?"

Oh shit, I knew where the fuck he was going with that. "No, Shawn, I want to host orgies in my dorm room," I deadpanned.

Shawn scoffed. "As if you'd live in a dorm room. Do you really think I'd let any other guy live in the same room that you change and sleep in? No. You'd obviously live with me."

I grit my teeth; I wanted to argue—but the fact that he was even talking about me hypothetically going to college was a good sign. Especially after what we had just gone through. "Fine."

Shawn propped himself on his elbow and gave me a shit-eating grin. "Did you just acknowledge that we have a future together?"

I scowled. "I acknowledge that I might still have to deal with you by the time I graduate high school—and that I don't want to be shoved into another fucking bunker before then."

Shawn ignored my comment. "I can picture it now. You'll go to your courses and then come back home immediately after they're done. We'll have our apartment—no, a house—and I would contract kill on the weekends so you could stay safely inside, and—"

"Wait a second. I thought..." I trailed off. I was about to say that I thought that he would stop killing for me. I cleared my throat. "How long do you expect me to keep quiet about your... profession, if you keep on killing?" I asked. Damn, maybe it was a bad idea to threaten him, but I needed to know if he ever planned to stop.

Shawn frowned and his eyes darkened. Shit. "How long do you expect me to refrain from kidnapping you when you say shit like that?" He asked.

Ah, fuck. "That... That's not really what I meant. I mean..." Fuck, how could I backpedal out of this? "...Could you please stop killing people?" I asked lamely.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Depends. Can you stop getting yourself into deep shit?"

"I only started to get into deep shit when you started fucking stalking me," I grumbled.

"And if you let me fucking protect you—"

I threw my hands in the air. "Forget I mentioned it!" I exclaimed before turning away to sulk on my phone.

A few minutes later I felt Shawn put his head on my shoulder. "Of course I'd stop killing for you, baby—I have other ways of getting my fix," he cooed into my ear.

I shrugged him off my shoulder with a scowl. "That actually sounds more concerning."

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Up next: underage drinking on school-sponsored field trips! (you read that right! An upcoming chapter AND illegal activities)

I never really meant to drop off the radar forever-- that kind of just ended up happening as I went through a lot of life transitions and started writing different things. And the only reason I really started on new projects was because of the support and confidence that all of you gave me here (again, thank you all so much for instilling confidence in that angsty teenager that started this book). So, for now I'm back! And I'm going to try to finish this shit (keyword there is "try"). Because I owe it to my angry children (such as Jake; the angriest child of all) and everyone who's ever read this book.