I roll my eyes. “Absolutely not. It’s annoying. Knock it off.”
“Whatever you say, mon coeur.” He’s still grinning. So smug.
I try to focus on the video, but my skin warms at the thought of Ricardo’s fingers in my hair. It felt so good, I didn’t want him to stop.
I hate Ricardo, I tell myself. But do I really?
The security guard puts in headphones and starts bobbing to whatever music is filtering into his ears.
Wait. “Stop the video. Play it back.”
Ricardo complies, going back a few seconds.
Out of frame, headlights flash in the street.
Several minutes pass without movement, and then a dark figure dashes in through the gate and up to the dormitory door.
The security guard misses it, looking at his computer screen.
So, that guard should be fired.
And that was definitely Gul fleeing inside. She saw the accident, and lied about it. She looked freaked out when she snuck back inside, her movements jerky and her head held low.
Her mannerisms make me doubt she was involved, or even knew about it. Someone cold-blooded enough to arrange to have someone killed by being run over wouldn’t be that skittish afterward.
So why was Gul outside school grounds that night?
16
It gives me so much pleasure to see Kenneth’s envious face when Ricardo and I strut past the health center into the eatery for lunch. Eat your heart out, Kenneth. I’m so focused on watching Kenneth out of the corner of my eye that it catches me by surprise when Ricardo leans down and brushes his lips over my cheek.
“I’ll meet you inside,” he whispers in my ear. “Can you blush on command? Act like I’m saying something naughty.”
“No way,” I titter, but throw in a playful swat for good measure. “Where are you going?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He winks as he walks backward away from me, then disappears into the crowded hallway.
I huff in amusement. If I didn’t dislike Ricardo, I’d think he was funny.
“There you are. We need to talk,” Cal says, snagging my arm and propelling me into the eatery and toward the pizza station.
I allow him to pull me along by the elbow. I’ve managed to avoid answering questions about his car for an impressive amount of time, but now that I know it wasn’t me who killed Rook with Cal’s car, I should probably explain what happened.
We join the back of the line, and Cal looks around to make sure we’ve got some privacy.
Honestly, he’s less subtle than a fog horn.
“What’s up?” I ask, feigning ignorance. Even if I’m going to be honest with my brother about everything that’s going on, I can still have a little fun with him first.
Cal’s head cocks to one side. “You know. My car? It disappeared the day they found Rook’s body, and then it was mysteriously back two days later, and it was spotless. You had it repaired. You’re lucky I’m the only one who noticed, or it would have looked bad.”
I open my mouth to speak, but change tacks. My hands find my hips. “How did you know I’d had it repaired?” He must have seen it on his way into the dormitory that night. Otherwise, when would he have? It was gone early the next morning.
Cal glances around again.
Over his shoulder, I see Adrienne, Genevieve, Mikhail, and Asif at our table. Adrienne waves at us, so I give her a small finger-wave back.
“You swear you won’t tell Mom and Dad?” Cal mutters, scooting forward in the line.
I’m doubly confused now. “Swear I won’t tell them what?”
“I might have hit one of those concrete poles with my car. You know the ones in parking lots? Don’t tell Dad, okay?”
My jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me. You did that? I thought I’d killed Professor Rook. I had the car fixed to hide my tracks. I mean, it turns out I did run over him, but he was already dead when it happened. So, yeah.” The words come in a rush, and I have to fight to remain quiet
It’s Cal’s turn to gape. Shaking his head, he brings his face down to mine. “You… you thought you’d killed Professor Rook with my car? And you didn’t confess?” The unmistakable undertone of admonishment in the question cuts me to the quick.
I stare at the floor, my brother’s rebuke ringing in my ears. “It was an accident, and it’s not like the professor was an innocent lamb, or anything. He was a drug dealer, for goodness sakes!”
“How do you… You know what? I don’t want to know. Still, killing a man by accident is wrong. I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell the police.” He combs a hand through his icy blond hair, hair the same color as mine. “Unbelievable, Charlotte.”
I start to spout all of my reasons for keeping quiet, but they’re suddenly, obviously inadequate. I glance over my shoulder, and am brought up short by the dirty look the girl in line behind me is giving me. Did she hear what I just said? Crap.
“Are you going to move forward, or what?” she says, gesturing ahead of us.
Relief floods through me as I glance beyond Cal. The line has moved considerably, and we’re holding it up. “Oh, sorry.”
Catching on, Cal scoots forward toward the pizza station. He scans the row of available pizza toppings, not looking at me. Out of the corner of his mouth, he says, “How did you find out it wasn’t you who killed him?”
Sighing, I tell him about that night. The “tire” I ran over. Kenneth calling me about it, and showing up at school. His buddy telling him that Rook was run over twice, and the timeline that exonerates me of manslaughter.
Cal’s eyes meet mine. “You got lucky.”
Straightening my headband, I nod. “You’re telling me.”
I should tell my brother the rest, but something holds me back from confiding in him about my fake relationship with Ricardo. I want to keep that to myself for a little while longer. Probably to make Kenneth even more jealous. Or something.
“So, are you going to tell the police you were the second driver?” My brother’s wide eyes make it clear that he thinks I should.
“Maybe. Probably.”
Cal shakes his head. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”
“Shut up and grab some pizza.”
The girl behind us bumps into me with her tray, and her apology is phonier than a politician who flip flops on issues every election cycle.
We get our food and walk toward our table. As I slide into the chair beside Ricardo, I realize that I feel lighter than I have in the two weeks since the accident. Confiding in Cal has loosened the knots in my chest. And so has knowing that he was the one who dented the car, not me.
Having a guy in my dorm room is weird. Ricardo wanted me to hang out in his room, but there was no way I was subjecting myself to the trolling that would happen if anyone saw me going into a guy’s room on the fifth floor and shutting the door, so here we are, in my room instead.
Ricardo circles the carpet, running his fingers over the faux fur blanket thrown over the end of my bed. “This is nice. I’m going to come down here more often. What’s that smell?”
“I don’t smell anything.” I shrug, feeling awkward, so I plop down into my desk chair.
Coming up behind me, Ricardo leans over and takes a whiff of my neck. “Are you wearing perfume? I like it.”