“Um.” I glance over my shoulder, my gaze snagging on the Harrington estate. “I was just at Sophia’s. I kind of want to go back.”
I need some distance to figure out why he’s acting this way. All cute and drunk and … into me.
“You two are becoming close.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.
“I like her. She’s one of the only people at Wickham who’s nice to me.” I sound defensive, but maybe I have a right to be.Until this little drunken escapade, Connor has been mostly standoffish and rude. Are there moments when the connection he feels—that I feel, too—flares up into something warm and welcome? Sure. But I wouldn’t say that’s been the predominant vibe here. No, that would be more easily categorized ashostile.
“She’s a decent sort,” Connor admits. “Want me to walk you back?”
“No. That might end up looking a little suspicious, don’t you think?”
“You’re right. Not like leaving their house, spending a not-insignificant amount of time outside in the cold—without a proper jacket, I might add—then going back to their house instead of returning to campus. That’s not suspicious at all.” He grins again, and I sort of want to melt at when those adorable dimples pop. “How about you go your way and I’ll go mine?”
“Deal.” I watch him go until he disappears into the darkening night sky. A sigh gusts out of me.
I shouldn’t pay any attention to the connection between us, but I do. He makes me feel all fluttery inside with only a look, and while hardened Billie shouldn’t let that affect her, soft and flighty Belinda can. Meaning … I’m doing it for the plot. For my cover. For this totally unhinged mission I’m on.
Give me a break.
I’ve never been good at lying to myself. Lying to everyone else? That’s another thing entirely.
Connor has no idea how similar we are, and I can’t tell him about my past or my problems. Nope, I get to continue lying to him about who I am and where I’m from.
And standing out here in the wind, close to the place where Isla’s whole life changed, I still manage to hate myself for it.
…
“Belinda!” Sophia looks as shocked by my reappearance on her doorstep as I am that I returned. “What are you doing here?”
“I walked back to campus and couldn’t stand the thought of eating dining hall food again and reading a boring book all night.” It’s true. Plus, I don’t want to spend the evening in my room with Priya and her bitchy bestie. No thank you. “I’m hoping the dinner invitation still stands?”
“Of course it does! Come in, come in.” I enter the house, and Sophia practically drags me into the kitchen. “Look who came back for dinner!”
“Wonderful! Glad you’re joining us, Belinda.” Mrs. Harrington’s smile is so kind, the sight of it almost makes me weep. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? The bathroom is just down that short hall. Sophia, be a dear and help me with the salad?”
I leave the kitchen and head in the direction Mrs. Harrington indicated, coming to a stop when I see a closed door and a light shining from beneath. I also hear a familiar voice talking. Rising, in frustration or anger, I can’t tell. Sounds like Headmaster Harrington is on the phone. I take a step closer to the door, trying to listen in.
“Iknow. But you have to understand, William, keeping him close is best. I’ve discussed it with the others, and I won’t—” He blows out a frustrated breath as whoever is on the other end of the line—William?—interrupts him. A loud bang sounds, and I jump, clamping my lips shut on the gasp that wasabout to spill. He must’ve slapped his hand on the edge of his desk or against the wall. He definitely hit something. Hard.
“Enough, I said! You listen to me. His sister isdead. His father isin jail. I won’t have a repeat of what happened to Nigel, not during my tenure here. That family has been at Wickham since the damn founding, and I’m not going to throw some poor kid out on his ass when he needs us the most. That’s my final word on the matter.” Harrington ends the call, and I can hear him pouring something in a glass before the gentlewhooshof a body settling heavily onto a chair. I dart into the bathroom and close the door, then turn on the tap and run my shaking hands beneath the cold trickle of water while Harrington’s words run through my head.
He’s referring to Connor. That’s a given. Who’s William? And Nigel? What happened to poor Nigel, and how long ago?
Harrington definitely knows more than I originally thought. About Connor, but maybe about Isla, too. Maybe he’s in on it.
But what isit, exactly?
I’m more determined than ever to find out.
…
Ispent the night at the Harringtons’, which was the right choice. I can always work on that paper all day Sunday. Sophia even volunteered to help me with it, though I told her I had to do something on my own.
And I meant it.
We ate a delicious meal and stayed up way too late talkingwhile lying in the cozy haven of her pink bedroom. It was hard for me to stay awake, thanks to Sophia’s extra comfortable bed. Not to mention it’s huge. A far cry from the narrow, hard-as-a-board bed in my dorm room.
My phone buzzing on the nightstand where I left it (plugged in, thanks to an extra charger Mrs. Harrington offered me before bed) is what wakes me up, and I reach for it, pulling the covers over my head so I can check my notifications in peace and not disturb Sophia.
