I play with a strand of my hair, thinking about this double-edged sword in front of me. I want Wes to love me naturally, not because we tricked him into doing it. The further this goes along, the more wrong it feels, but if I tell Asher that, what does that mean for me and all my secrets? Are we close enough now that he would let me out of the deal without any repercussions? Are we close at all? I start to feel ridiculous for any and all of the conflicting little thoughts that pop into my head about him. We are notfriends, we never were. Maybe I just need some distance to remind myself of that.
Before I can get up to leave, I hear Asher’s door open, and someone comes up the stairs. Sam steps into the room with his hands on his hips and looks between the two of us.
“Why did you two want to see Bryce last weekend?” he asks in an accusatory tone. “Did you know something bad was going to happen to him?”
I look at Asher, unsure of what to say. So Asher replies, “We didn’t say that.”
Sam narrows his eyes at us from under shaggy black hair. “Yes, you did.”
“No we didn’t,” Asher says again. “When did we say that?”
“When you asked me if you could get into the society. Are you really trying to convince me that you never said that?” He waits for an answer, but we don’t give him one. He goes on, “I thought it was odd but wasn’t going to ask. And then I remembered that Sloane used to date him. Is he not like the third or fourth ex-boyfriend of yours to die in a few short months?” he asks me. I can feel the blood drain from my face. “Look,” Sam says. “The police are hounding all of us to give them a complete list of everyone who came to this party. I didn’t tell them you two were there, but I need to know what is going on. Did one of you hurt Bryce?”
“Sam, no, of course not,” I say. “But... you can’t tell the police we were there either. I can’t get in trouble this year with the police. My mom will pull me from Pembroke.”
Sam purses his lips, likely debating whether or not he believes me.He’s not one for arguments or confrontation, and I feel that we have him on our side until Asher opens his mouth.
“Did you enjoy the orgy?” Asher asks. My eyes snap to him, and I wonder if I heard him right. If he really just asked that.
Sam’s face turns a crimson red. “What?”
“We saw you,” Asher says. “In the back of the room, with all of those guys. Thatcouldstay between the three of us, if you never tell anyone we were there.”
Sam grits his teeth. “That—that wasn’t me.”
Asher crosses his arms. “And we never said anything about Bryce.”
Sam looks between the two of us, his mouth open like he may argue, but he closes it and turns on his heels to leave.
“Asher!” I reprimand him when the door shuts—no, slams—at the bottom of the stairs. “How could you do that to Sam!”
“Do you want to go to jail? Because once again, you look like a suspect, and the only thing keeping you from an orange jumpsuit is me. I didn’t feel good about blackmailing Sam either but it had to be done.”
I shake my head, walking to the door. “I have to go home.”
“Back to Adrienne?” He raises a brow. Oh, so he was listening. I turn to look at him, but I don’t have anything to say. “We’re both so close to getting what we want,” he says in a low voice.
Chapter 17
November
Bryce’s case continues on like the weather in November, cold. Sam won’t speak to me after Asher’s outburst, so I rely on Marissa’s TikTok for updates. Due to most people at the party being on a hallucinogen, and everyone wearing masks, the police can’t identify everyone who was there. The members are being questioned relentlessly, or so Marissa says in her last video, titled: “Get ready with me to help the police catch the killer.” Branding herself as some type of college detective hero.
“You’re being a recluse,” Asher says to me in my bedroom. He sits across from me on the floor in a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair messy from the hat he wore and his cheeks a little pink from the cold air. He isn’t wrong. It’s a Friday night, and I’ve committed my weekend to staring at the suspect board. In the past three weeks I’ve barely left my apartment, thinking that maybe everyone is better off if I just stay put. I let my social life, and more importantly my schoolwork, fall to the wayside. I glance at my goals list taped to the mirror. When I received an F on a testMonday I crossed out theace all of your classesline. “Everyone’s questioning if we’re even together at this point. I keep having to find girls to hang out with so I can lie and say I’m going to your apartment.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, poor you,” I say in my best pity voice.
“My birthday is tomorrow,” he says. “We’re going out. You have to show up for that at least.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know. It’s risky.”
“What is risky?” he asks.
I pull up the last few emails from Miles and hand him my phone. I watch him scroll through them.
I can explain if you’ll meet me.
MH
