“Nope,” he says, leaning down to kiss me, ignoring the scowling security guard.
“How was conditioning?” I ask him, walking around the outside of the buildings toward the dorm.
“I hurt everywhere,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “I always forget how miserable conditioning is, and I didn’t do much to stay in shape all summer, so it sucks.”
“I can give you a massage,” I say with a flirtatious lilt.
“With the door open,” he reminds me, squeezing my hand.
“What’s your PDA rule?” I tease.
Grant laughs.
The mayhem in the dorm has settled for the evening with the designers gone. Instead, it’s buzzing with guys and girls roaming the halls, entering open rooms. Mrs. Seyer must be having a heart attack with this new rule.
We find Ashton in Arden’s room with a small group of people lounging and swaying to her chill electronic music.
“There you are!” Ashton exclaims, hugging me and then Grant. “You have to try this watermelon champagne drink Arden created. It’s divine.”
“We were going to spend some alone time in my room with the door open,” I tell her with a mischievous gleam.
She tilts her head back and cackles. “You’re going to have a hard time doing that.”
I frown, preparing for an answer I don’t want to hear. “Why?”
“Listen, I’m mad at him too. But don’t kill him when you see him,” she says, swinging her arm around my shoulders. “He’s an ass and fucked up big time. And I’m really sorry he messed up your life.” Then she faces me with her hands gripping my shoulders. “But if he didn’t do the stupid thing he did, you wouldn’t be here. And we wouldn’t be best friends. And you’d still be afraid of love and never have this guy”—she winks at Grant—“in love with you. So … let’s be mad at him. Even hate him for a little while, but we will forgive him. Because we love him.”
I cross my arms in stubborn defiance. “He told you everything?”
“Yes, he confessed to all of it. Even the part about him being your brother.” She covers her mouth to keep from laughing, committed to being serious. The scowl on my face helps sober her.
“You’re thinking of Allie, aren’t you?” she says, leading me into the hall. Grant leans a shoulder against the wall next to us. “That wasn’t him, Lana. You know it. It’s like blaming yourself. Anyway, go in there and hear him out. I don’t know what he’s going to say, but he’s been harassing me every other minute, wondering where you are.”
I look to Grant, concern creasing his forehead.
When I enter my room, Brendan spins around from pacing, completely at odds with his casual, unaffected self.
“What’s going on?” I demand, shutting the door behind us, already breaking the rule.
“Why don’t you ever check your phone?” he yells in frustration. “I’ve been calling you all day!” He approaches me. “Speaking of which, hand over the Blackwood phone. The other phone is turned off, right?”
I nod, never having turned it on today. Digging through my tote, I pull it out from underneath my clothes. Brendan takes it and stores both our phones in the bathroom.
“Who did you tell about the video?” he demands urgently.
“Uh, Grant,” I say cautiously, not sure where this is going. “Parker and Isaac already knew about it. And Joey. Oh, and Ashton.”
Brendan throws up his hands. “Why not just tell everyone? Oh, wait, you did! And you forgot to add whoever broke into my room with you!”
“What’s your problem, Brendan?” I ask impatiently.
“I was trying to figure out how Vic knows about the video. It’s not on a server, and I never talk about it when a phone’s within earshot.”
“Oh,” I say, deflating. “Right.”
He reads my guilty expression easily. “Are you kidding, Lana? Blackwood phones can’t be trusted! Have you not figured that out by now?”
“Vic has access?” Grant questions skeptically.
“That’s what his grandfather’s company does! They’re probably the ones who installed their system!” Brendan exclaims in exacerbation. “And half the time, you don’t even know where your phone is! He’s had plenty of opportunities to clone it. With that phone in your room, you might as well be lying next to him in your bed, whispering in his ear.”
I shudder at the thought.
“Okay, he knows,” Grant says, attempting to de-escalate Brendan’s ranting. “Which is why he trashed your room. We get it. But he didn’t find it, right?”
Brendan shakes his head. “He’ll keep looking. In the meantime, he’s gonna try to get rid of whatever evidence he can.” He collapses onto the couch.
“Oh. This was in your room when I got here.” Brendan reaches into the pocket of his pressed black pants and pulls out an envelope.
I eye Brendan suspiciously when I take it from him, expecting it to be open. Surprised when it’s still sealed.
Predictably, a picture’s inside. It’s of Allie, laughing in her pink wig at The Point. I flip it over to read the linear red ink message that’s always written on the back. But this one’s different. Scrawled in messy black marker, it reads:
“What the hell?” Grant exclaims, taking the photo from my shaking hand. “What kind of sick …”
“Told you. He’s tying up loose ends, which includes witnesses,” Brendan answers, running his hands through his hair, pulling at his roots. “Before, it was just his word against yours with a witness putting you in the stairwell. But then you started telling people. And he found out about the video because you broke into my room,” Brendan growls loudly, “and had to talk about it within proximity of your phone.”
I grimace, biting my lip. Guess I wasn’t paranoid enough.
“Why couldn’t you trust me, Lana? Hell, you don’t fricken trust anyone other than Prince Perfect over here.” He nods toward Grant in annoyance.
“For good reason,” I quip.
“Whatever,” he says dismissively. “You let Vic know he has something to worry about. And he and I have a … relationship—or whatever fucked up thing it is. Now he feels vulnerable and exposed. So he’s panicking. He was already reckless. Now he’s a full-out psychopath.”
I lean against the counter next to my sink, unable to feel my legs. “You’re right. I screwed up.”
“Oh, it’s worse,” Brendan continues, his jaw tensing and fists clenched. “He’s on the guest list to the Ball.”
My knees give out. Grant catches me with his arms around my waist before I can hit the floor.
“Can we come in now?” Ashton hollers from the bathroom.
“Yeah!” Brendan returns. When Ashton and Arden walk in, he announces, “This concerns all of us.”
“Why does Lana look like you just killed her hopes and dreams?” Arden asks, bending in front of me, placing a hand on my cheek and peering into my eyes.
I stare back, my mind racing with thoughts of all the people who will be at this dance … in costume. He could be any one of them.