Page 55 of Spin the Damn Bottle

Jason only grins.

The rest of the week passes in a blur of similar activities, skiing, drinking, eating, and fucking, awkward as it might be while we share the house with several adult couples. But Jason doesn't seem to care and I get used to it.

Before I know it, we drive back down the hill, away from the fairy-tale retreat, and head back to the airport. On the way in, we flew first class, which, needless to say, is a first for me. On the way back, we travel in the Alden Corp jet with Lauren—Charles has been called away to DC, and she made him fly commercial.

The inside of the small jet has a luxury lounge bar in cream and oak. Our flight attendants, two well-dressed, handsome men, consider it their mission in life to ensure our flutes are never empty. I could get used to this.

Jason drops me off back at my house for the last night before the end of the break, stopping only long enough to meet my mother.

My father is, as always, working.

Before I know it, we're back at school again.

Either because of the lack of incidents, Jason's assurance that he's seen to my safety, or both, I relax. I don't even ask him who he thinks was behind the fire more than once a week.

The second week of March, the entire senior year is abuzz with energy, talking nonstop about the European trips. I remember to submit my absence papers at the front desk, only to find a confused secretary staring at her computer. "You're not going to Rome? Has there been a change of plans? This close to the date, I'm afraid we might not be able to process a refund as the tickets, hotel rooms, and restaurants have already been booked."

A refund? "I haven't paid for the trip…have I?"

I'm quite certain I haven't, but as I stare at the manicured lady in full makeup, I realize that it's quite possible the payment was made for me without my knowledge.

"We have your full payment recorded…a week ago, isn't that right?"

I vaguely remember talking about the travel to Jason around then. "I don't like the idea of you in Rome without me," he'd said.

Though fluent in French and Italian,Jason takes Spanish and German, so he's headed to Germany.

"Don't worry about that, I'm not going anywhere."

"Why?"

Of course, he'd be confused, he who has never had to check a price tag in his life. "Because it's expensive as fuck. I didn't ask my parents for the money. It doesn't matter, really. If I want to see Rome someday, I'll save up and go for a tenth of the price of that excursion."

I should have expected him to pay for it, but I didn't, mostly because I didn't think he'd want me alone in a foreign country with classmates whose intentions we might not be certain about.

Jason will never cease surprising me.

"That's right," I tell the receptionist. "Sorry for the confusion. I'm going to Rome."

Apparently.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I'm busy, between classes, resuming swimming, working on my series for the Black and White gallery, and Jason. Always Jason.

Winter recedes reluctantly, giving way to the first warm, sunny days. The Wednesday before my trip to Rome, my art teacher takes me aside after class. "You've grown in the past three years, Nadia. Your technique and your vision are sharper. I was particularly glad to hear about Tisch. Congratulations."

"Tisch?" I stare at the rail-thin teacher.

His mouth opens and he's quick to apologize. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew. I have an old friend on the admissions committee, and he informed me one of my students had been accepted. You should get the letter any day now."

I grin, excited because it's a dream of mine, though I'll never quite know if I entirely got in on my own merit.

I consider shooting a text to Jason, but instead, I head over to the football field.

I have little appreciation for the sport, and Jason never asks me to attend his games, so I rarely ever see this part of the school. I only have to wait a couple of minutes before the players jog by on the green grass.

Spotting him under his helmet, I rush to him and jump in his arms. "I got in! I'm going to Tisch."