“I know your weird daily fasting ritual,” she says, eyeing my plate, “so I’ll eat, while you talk. But at some point today…” She nods toward the food in front of me. “You’re finishing all of that. Besides, you’re hot, but you look like death.”
I swallow tightly as she cuts a triangle of her pancake with the side of her fork.
When Nolan was responsible for feeding me on those days Mom had to go into work early, he’d slice a kiwi for us, or else peel off a Slimfast shake from the plastic web of them, and split it into two different glasses, his and hers.
Thinking of Nolan, I realize I need to text him back since he’s been blowing up my phone, asking for updates. But I don’t feel like dealing with him right now.
The blanket that was my safety net falls from my shoulders into a black puddle on the floor.
Cool air graces my back.
Cynthia is eating, and she’s staring at me.
Chills run over my arms, forming goosebumps.
“What are we talking about?” I finally ask.
She narrows her eyes. “Do not.”
But the truth is, I’m not sure exactly what she knows. I never told her about Will being in our place, and now, I realize that’s probably for the best. If the detectives question her, she’ll truthfully be able to say she’s never met him in her life,andif they check the cameras outside the building, if he’s on them, they’ll be able to corroborate her story. She wasn’t here when he came by.
So I don’t think I should tell her now.
And has his identity been released on campus yet? Possibly. But would the name ring a bell? Unless it specifically stated Will was a friend of Jackson’s or connected to the previous murder, she might not even make the correlation.
So despite the fact the murders are the thing pressing most on my mind, I don’t think it’s really sitting in Cyn’s head at all.
Then that means…
“Tasia thinks you’re a snake.” She says it with a small smile at me, and I knowshedoesn’t think that, or if she does, she thinks it only affects Tasia and thus, she doesn’t care, because she and I are firm friends.
But the guilt settles heavy in my stomach, despite the fact I haven’t eaten anything.
I’m lying to Cyn, too. A lie by omission, so maybe notquitea snake, but it’s still not giving her the truth.
“And how did she come to that conclusion?” I ask. I don’t really care what Tasia thinks. While I think we could probably be friends, we currently aren’t, not really, and I have more pressing things to worry about. But I want to know exactly where this is going in terms of what it is Cynthia expects me to tell her. I’m in that weird position of not wanting to say more than necessary but not knowing what my friend knows.
Cynthia swallows a bite, sets her fork down, then grabs the maple syrup between us in a bottle shaped like a leaf.
I roll my eyes at it.
Fucking Canadians.
I play with the eggs on my plate by moving them around with my fork.
“Something to do with you coming whenSylvan Connorcalled. Then she said she sawFaust Darlingwalk into the private room Sylvan led you into.” Cynthia’s cheeks curve up as she grins at me, putting down the syrup and picking up her fork again.
She tilts her head expectantly.
Heat flushes along my throat.
“If you don’t tell me right now, Neve Allison Devine, if you had a threesome with the two hottest boys to ever play hockey in this entire country, I’m going to lose my mind.” She slices another triangle of pancakes, stacked two high.
My stomach grumbles and she narrows her eyes, then teases me by opening her mouth and flicking her tongue along the syrup that drops from her fork.
It’s kind of hot, but I just sigh heavily, blowing out a breath.
“We didn’t have a threesome. I mean, maybe I straddled the blond one, but?—”
