I jump back to avoid meeting her gaze, hitting the edge of Holland’s desk, causing papers to litter the floor. Holland is the guy she’s been driving up here to see? What thefuck,Adrienne. I gather up the papers quickly and toss them back on the desk, but one catches my eye. It’s an invitation to a gallery opening in Boston the first weekend of January, exclusively showing works by GrahamMonterra. I catch glimpses of the campus art studio and the phantom smell of oil paint mixed with weed just from reading his name.
“Oh my god.” Shaking, I take my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the invite on his desk. Why would he have this if he wasn’t planning to go after Graham? I peer out the window to see they’re both gone. He could be back up here any minute. I lose all the nerve I built up to come in here and now the thought of seeing him alone in his office scares the shit out of me. I bolt from the room and back to the parking lot without running into him. I get a text from Asher.
I know where Graham is.
So do I.
I send him the photo of the gallery opening.
Where did you find that?
On Miles Holland’s desk
My phone immediately starts ringing with Asher’s number on the ID.
“Asher, we have a problem,” I say upon answering.
“Yeah, we do: You’re at Ivy Gate without me. And on top of that, Sam said the police are asking for a list of every person that came to the Halloween party.”
“Okay, then we have a few problems. Adrienne is seeing Holland. I just watched them kiss from his office window.”
“Wait, what? Your roommate?”
“And cousin,” I say. “It’s fucked, Asher, fucked.”
He sighs through the phone and I can imagine him running his hand through his hair like he does when he’s stressed. “Well, did you talk to him?”
“Um, no, I was a little taken aback by my cousin betraying me to stick around and chat. But I went through his office and he had that gallery invite on his desk. He also has a locked drawer that I bet my journal is in.” I look up at the stone building. “I should go back in there. I came all the way up here to face him.”
“No,” he says. “Just get out of there and we’ll go back together.”
“Sloane?” a familiar voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Austin Reems walking toward me. “I thought that was you.”
“Austin, hey.” I go back to the phone conversation. “Asher, I have to go.”
“Sloane, don’t—” I hang up.
Austin’s pale face is pink in the chilly weather. “What are you doing up here?”
“Oh, I was just meeting with a professor,” I say. “Probably going to head back to Pembroke.”
“What? No! You should come out with me and Ty tonight. It’s drunk bingo night at the Winchester. All of the old townies come in for it, so it’s always me, Ty, and a bunch of knit-blanket-smelling grandmas that probably live in asbestos-filled attics. Sometimes there’s even a fight.”
“Between you and Ty?”
“No, usually Ty and the grandmas. You’ll just have to come witness it for yourself.”
It has been a while since I saw Ty. And maybe after a drink ortwo I’ll get the courage to stay here until I talk to Miles. Maybe even go right to his town house. Asher would lose it. “Okay,” I say. “I’m in... Also, what the hell is asbestos?”
Austin puts a puffy-coat arm around my shoulder. “What you do every day, sweetie. As best as you can.”
“Get ready with me while I tell you about the gruesome murder that happened at Pembroke College,” Marissa’s voice rings out from my phone. I can’t believe she’s using his death for likes, and worse than that, it’s working. This video has over a million views.
I frown to myself as I lie on Ty’s couch, watching Marissa beat her face with foundation while she dishes out all the information regarding Bryce’s murder. I painfully watch the entire five-minute video, hoping she might provide some new information. But the only thing I gathered from the video is that she wears too much makeup.
An email notification flashes on my screen. I pull the tab down over the video and my stomach drops at the message.
Were you in my office yesterday, Sloane? I would recognize your perfume anywhere. Vanilla and honey.
