“That’s pretty much it.” I press my face into his chest. “I have no idea what to do.”
“Yeah.” Grant laughs humorlessly. “It’s a lot.” He stares over my head at the water, lost in thought. “I can’t believe you’ve had to go through this all by yourself.” His focus shifts to me. I tilt my head to take him in. “You’re incredible, Lana. And I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
My cheeks grow warm. “I don’t think I had a choice.”
“You always have a choice.” He leans down and kisses me gently, spreading the heat throughout my body. “I need to process all of this, okay? Figure out how to help you.”
I nod in understanding. “We should probably go back. I have no idea what time it is, and I can’t be late for this test. Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”
“Yeah, uh, no.” Grant grimaces, setting a fist to his forehead. “There’s a golf tournament this weekend at the club. I have to work doubles both tomorrow and Sunday. I remember Cary saying he begged Blackwood to let you work, but they wouldn’t budge. Now I kinda get why they have a reputation for being so controlling. I always thought it was to protect their high-profile students, but apparently, it goes beyond that.” He climbs back onto the lawn and helps me up too before walking toward the dorm with his hand engulfing mine. “But I’ll call you as soon as I get off each night. And we’ll figure this out, together, next week.”
I don’t even cringe when he says together. Maybe it’s time I get over it.
I wanted to believe the demon’s lies. They were more powerful than your truths.
It’s difficult to get into trouble when no one’s around.
Ashton, Brendan and Grant are working the golf tournament. Lance is spending the weekend at the lake house. And Sophia went home for the weekend.
Brendan … I avoid when he is on campus. But who knows what he sees from his monitor-infested perch. He doesn’t make one of his spontaneous appearances in my room either. I pick up my Blackwood phone, examining it. I wonder if he knows I suspect. I mean, I’ve always suspected him and never been shy about telling him. But now that I’ve seen what he’s capable of … I drop the phone into my bag, not wanting to touch it. My spine erupts with shivers.
Ashton invites me to her room after her shift on Saturday night. We listen to music and make a mess of her clothes, dressing ridiculously and dancing around to songs we shout to at the top of our lungs. Laughing feels good. Even better than screaming. And the entire time, she’s sober. As much as I can tell anyway … she’s always been a little peculiar.
I decide to risk asking one of the forbidden Blackwood questions. “What do Sophia’s parents do for a living?”
Ashton adjusts a bright blue wig on her head in front of the mirror, smoothing the bob into place. “Um, I don’t think I know.” She pauses. “Wait. Do I? I think one’s a scientist. Some super genius. Can’t remember if it’s her mom or dad. And the other does something with computers.”
This is the piece I’ve been trying to fit into place. I know it’s useless, asking Ashton for details if she barely knows this much. But it’s a crack in a previously closed door. Now I need to understand what Sophia has to do with any of this. Hopefully nothing.
“Where’s she from? I heard she went home this weekend.” I try to sound casual, applying white gloss to my lips. I don’t want to alarm Ashton and cause her to be suspicious of Sophia. Theirs isn’t a relationship I want to mess with without cause.
Ashton spins around, the train of her skirt floating around her. “She went to Chicago? That doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?” I pick up a pale pink wig with pigtails and settle it on my head, tucking loose wisps of my platinum strands beneath the elastic edge.
“Her parents are in Japan for the summer.” She scrunches her face, plucking a tube of liquid liner from her makeup suitcase. “I think it’s Japan. Maybe Indonesia. No, I’m pretty sure it’s Japan. Anyway, they’re not home.”
“Maybe I got it wrong,” I offer quietly. I decide this is a good time to change the subject before she starts questioning my curiosity. “Why did you pack so many wigs for school?”
“Why not?” She looks down at me from her red vinyl platform boots and laughs. “Omigod, that looks so adorable on you. I wore that wig to an EDM festival last summer. Brendan and I …” Her voice fades. “Anyway, you look good with pink hair. Not so sure about the white lips though.”
I watch the light dim in her eyes through her reflection in the mirror as I swipe the gloss from my lips. She leans in and draws exaggerated wings along her lids. I want to say something to comfort her, to make her laugh. But what? He doesn’t deserve you? Or some other cliché girl-to-girl consolation that means absolutely nothing.
The truth is, he loves her. I know he does. But he’s also lying to her. Keeping her in the dark in the name of protecting her. And keeping secrets isn’t what love’s about.
If you can’t be honest, then …
My phone rings. Ashton grabs it when Grant’s name appears on the screen. I reach for it, but she holds it above her, and jumping in these sparkly silver go-go boots doesn’t get me within a foot of her outstretched hand.
“Grant!” Ashton exclaims excitedly when his face appears on the screen. “What are you doing?”
Grant’s eyes widen at the sight of her in her bright blue bob and me in the pink pigtails. I force an exaggerated smile, which makes me look like I’m psychotic, and wave pathetically, punctuating the humiliation.
“What are you doing?” Grant asks in return. “Are you sneaking out again?”
“Nope,” Ashton answers, lowering the phone so just she is in the frame. She starts walking around the room. “Girls’ night in.”
“Looks … entertaining.” Grant is obviously struggling. “Um … do you mind if I talk to Lana?”
“Oh, yeah,” Ashton responds like it just struck her that he called to speak with me and not her. “She may not say it, but she loves you, you know. You can’t let her crazy phobia—” I grab the phone from her. She hollers, “Hey! I was saving you!”
“Hi. I’m here,” I say urgently, scurrying to the bathroom and shutting the door. Trying to keep Ashton’s chivalry on the other side of it. “How are you? How was the golf tournament? Did you get decent tips? Are you exhausted? What time do you have to be in tomorrow?”
“Lana,” Grant interrupts my word vomit. “Breathe, Sweets. Breathe.”
But I don’t. I stop breathing completely when he calls me Sweets. He’s never called me that before. And … I actually … like it. So much better than Brendan calling me fucking Princess!
He smiles when he realizes he’s rendered me speechless. “Are you okay? Should I not have called you that? I mean, you look so fricken cute in that wig; it just kinda came out.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, my cheeks matching the pink hair. “Um, I can take it off.”
“Don’t,” he counters quickly. “I mean, unless you want to.”