The Naturals

Chapter 7

We find the boy called Dean in the garage. He's lying on a black bench, facing away from the door. Dark blonde hair is plastered to his face with sweat, his jaw clenched as he executes a series of slow and methodical bench presses. Each time his elbows lock I get a sick feeling in my stomach. But each time he keeps going.

He's muscular but lean, and just by looking at him I assume this isn't a workout but a punishment. Punishment for what? Well, I'd have to get to know him better.

Michael rolls his eyes and sneaks up behind him. "Ninety eight. Ninety nine. One hundred!"

Dean closes his eyes before lifting his arms again to place the weight down. His biceps shake, and I thought that Michael would step up to help him but no, it's Sloane that walks up and latches on to the barbell. Skinny, and innocent Sloane.

Dean wipes his hands on a towel and sits up.

"Thanks."

"Torque," she says. "The role of the lever was played by your arms."

Dean stands, his lips angled slightly upwards but the moment he sees me, his fledgling smile freezes in place.

"Dean Redding, meet Violet McPherson," Michael says. Right away I can tell he's enjoying Deans discomfort way too much.

"Nice to meet you," he says to the floor, rather than bringing his dark eyes to mine.

Lia decides now is a good time to speak up with, "Well, that's not strictly-"

"Lia." Deans voice hadn't changed in any way but she shuts up immediately. But of course, I didn't need a lie detector to hear the deception in his words.

I look at Dean, narrowing my eyes slightly as I catalogue everything about him. Light hair. Dark eyes. Clenched fists and an open posture. Dingy white tee and blue jeans. Long since cut hair, and natural shadows on his face, as he hides in the darkness.

Michael inherits the tone of a game show host, "Dean is a Natural Profiler. Just like you."

The words don't seem directed at me, and when Dean looks at Michael I can see that my assumption was correct. Deans face remains impassive but there's a slight glint in his eyes. Almost deadly.

"Dean," Michael continues. "Knows more about the way serial killers think than just about anybody."

Wanna bet?

Muscles taut Dean walks out, knocking shoulders with Michael before slamming the garage door.

"Dean has a temper." Michael smiles.

"If Dean had a temper, you'd be dead," Lia snorts.

"Dean wouldn't kill anyone," Sloane says with complete conviction.

Michael flips a coin in the air. "Wanna bet?"

...

At dinner we all get summoned down. Mac and Cheese. Apparently —according to Lia— this is one of Judd's lazy days. Meanwhile for me, Mac and Cheese is probably the most common thing I've ever eaten in my life.

"You know Vi," Michael says, although his eyes are trained on Dean. "I would've thought you'd normally wear things a little more... you know."
At those words he looks at me, and my cheeks flush a bit before I realize exactly what I could get away with.

Right now I wear a navy blue sweatshirt and black leggings. Of course according to my old job, Michael expected me to wear something a little more revealing. Thing is with that, is that I don't have enough makeup to hide the scars 24/7.