I touch his arm, and he turns to meet my gaze. “Why would someone who was trying to help Emily get good grades want to murder her?”
“Don’t be so naive, Billie.” He makes a dismissive noise, and I drop my hand from his arm. His words hurt. “Look at Abigail and Priya. Love can make people act unhinged. Isla was helping Emily, sure, but was she also controlling her? The two of them were inseparable, but was that Emily’s choice?The police think it was a crime of passion, and no one was more passionate about Emily than Isla.”
His words fill me with dread. Could that be it? Were Isla and Emily more than best friends, like Priya and Abigail? What about Julian? Isla kept him a secret, but was that because it would’ve upset Emily to find out she was messing around with someone else? No one wants to be cheated on. Did they fight over Julian?
I wish I knew.
“I don’t want to talk about Emily anymore.” Connor reaches for me, hauling me onto his lounger. The towels fall away from me, and I squeal from the cold air touching my bare skin. “It should be a fun night, right? Like what Sophia said earlier?”
“Right.” My voice is hollow. I don’t want to ruin the mood, either, but I can’t deny he gave me a perspective I hadn’t thought of before. “But I fear it’s difficult to have fun when I’m freezing my ass off.”
“Lucky you, I’ve got this.” He reaches down on the other side of the lounger and holds up a thick blanket.
I punch him in the upper arm, but it’s like hitting a brick. My knuckles ache from the impact. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I only just noticed it.” He drapes the blanket across the both of us and then pulls me into his side. I rest my cheek against his chest, snuggling closer when he slips his arm around my shoulders. We lie like this for long, quiet minutes, and I swear I feel him brush his lips against the top of my head.
If it was possible, I’d stay like this with him all night. For the next week, even. Just the two of us. Forget all of ourtroubles and problems and just … be.
But I can’t. Real life is rude and intrusive, and we’d never get away with it.
“I have another question,” I eventually announce, and Connor groans.
“Not another one.” I playfully pinch his side, and he grabs my hand, stopping me. “Fine, go ahead. Ask me all the questions.”
I lift my head and rest my arm on his chest. We’re face-to-face, and he’s smiling faintly, his heavy-lidded gaze making me feel fluttery inside. “Who are you passionate about?”
I’m alluding to his earlier “crime of passion” remark. And while I’m probably reaching big time with this question and hoping his answer will be me, I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes I say dumb stuff.
“Who do you want me to be passionate about?” He reaches for my face, brushing his fingers against my cheek as he tucks a few wayward strands of hair behind my ear. “If you’re trying to ask if I’m seeing anyone else, the answer is a resounding no.”
I already knew that, not that I’ve ever had any official confirmation. “There’s no one else in my life, either.”
“Good.” His smile grows, and his fingers trace along my jaw. My chin. He rubs his thumb against my bottom lip, and I let my mouth open slightly, anticipation curling through me. “Now that we’ve got that dreadful conversation out of the way …”
Our mouths connect, soft and sweet until he deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps the interior of my mouth, and I fall into him. My body is sprawled on top of his, and heat coursesthrough me when he rests his hand on my butt.
Voices sound outside, but we ignore them, too into each other to care about who might be watching or what they might see. A loudboomsounds from above, and colorful fireworks burst and crackle in the sky, lighting up the entire backyard. Partygoers are standing on the other side of the hedge that cuts the pool off from the rest of the lawn, their faces angled toward the sky.
I break away from Connor’s kiss and watch the fireworks for a few seconds. Until Connor’s hand on my cheek guides me back to his always-seeking lips, and I lose myself in his kiss again. My entire body lights up from within, exactly like the sky.
Oh, how I wish this night would never end.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ihunkered down in the library all day Sunday to finish the paper I noped out of Friday night. I thought I’d have an easier time of it, since I readRebeccaby Daphne du Maurier last year for my GED, but apparently I forgot more than I remembered. Still, I finally finished just as the library was closing. I managed to sneak in a few texts to Doug, too, who kindly ignored the fact that it took me a week to reach out. He was chatty and filled me in on what the bar regulars are up to, and he didn’t ask too many questions about how things are going here. It almost felt like he was reassuring me that life back home is waiting for me whenever I come back.
And … I don’t know how to feel about that.
Doug’s messages filled me with a surprising ache. On the one hand, I miss him and the bar and even the regulars. I miss Mom and our shitty apartment. I miss home, despite how hard life is there. I guess it’s normal to miss what’s familiar to us.
But on the other hand, I’m starting to wonder what it will be like to return to the life I’ve been living in New York. Allthese Wickham kids are going places after school—places beyond the local watering hole for slow shifts and bad tips. Belinda Winters is like the rest of them, a girl with nothing but potential stretching out ahead of her. Being me again after having a taste of being her is going tosuck.
Today has been refreshingly uneventful. It might be wishful thinking, but some of the kids I saw at Freddie’s party seem to be warming up to me. I heard more than one “Hey Belinda” while I was crossing the courtyard after lunch, where Arlo saved me a seat so he could recap what he called my “nuclear annihilation” of Abigail in the hot tub. I get the impression that the urge to tell that girl to go pound sand is one most of the student body shares. I should start a club.
I only have one more class before the academic part of my day is done—and the work I actually care about can begin. Julian and I are going to have a long overdue conversation this evening. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to fess up to whatever he had going on with my sister.
I’m a bundle of nerves when I enter the art room, but I stop short when I realize I’m the only one here.
