Chapter Thirteen #2
I can feel both Sophia and Connor stiffen at Abigail’s snide comment.
“When the alternative is the diva and her bodyguard,” I say, bobbing my head at Priya and Abigail respectively, “can you really blame him?” My voice is calm despite my inner City Kid wanting to launch herself at Abigail and pull her hair.
The boys laugh. Priya’s worried expression is almost comical, but I restrain myself from joining in the laughter.
“Now come on, Abigail. Not sure why you want to pick on poor ol’ Con here.” Julian’s good-natured attitude always throws me. There’s something about him that’s incredibly fake, and I don’t understand how Isla couldn’t see it.
“Give me a break, Julian.” Abigail wobbles a little, and Priya reaches out to keep her steady. Looks like she’s had something to drink along with her recreational meds. Great.
“You two do look cozy,” Freddie observes, his gaze flitting between Connor and me. “You up to something new, Connor?”
Connor says nothing in response, but I can feel the anger radiating off him in waves.
“I thought the hot tub was supposed to be fun, guys.” Sophia glances around, her brows drawn together. I’m sure she can feel the tension, too.
“Oh, it was loads of fun until you two showed up.” Abigail checks on Priya. “Right, P?”
Priya remains quiet as well, sending Abigail a meaningful look. One that probably says, watch yourself.
Abigail ignores her. “Connor, I have to say it’s great to have you back in the fold, but you should know that none of us can quite decide whether to hate you because your dad is a criminal or pity you because your sister is dead.”
Sophia gasps. Priya’s mouth hangs open. All the boys duck their heads, seemingly uncomfortable. Me?
I’m fuming. I can feel Connor next to me, shaking with rage and humiliation. I rest my hand on his thigh beneath the water, giving it a squeeze.
He sets his hand on top of mine, curling our fingers together, and I want to lean into him but I’m too fired up to get cuddly.
“It’s funny, Abigail, because I can’t decide whether you’re an unbearable bitch because you’re miserable, or if you’re miserable because you’re an unbearable bitch.” I shake my head. “I just … can’t figure it out.”
“Yeah, Abigail. You need to learn how to keep your mouth shut.” Freddie’s comment feels like a warning.
Abigail glares at me for a long, quiet moment before she turns to Priya, muttering, “Fucking bitch.”
My mind instantly flashes to the Polaroid I found and the vandalism on my closet mirror. Both included that particular phrase. Is it a signature Abigail set-down? Is she the culprit?
I’m leaning toward a big hell yes.
“Ignore her, Belinda.” Arlo smiles, his entire body swaying to and fro, as if he’s a slender tree in the wind. “Abigail gets off on bullying everyone at Wickham at some point or another. She’s just power trippin’ because you’re new.”
“New Yorkers have such a reputation for being harsh, but Wickham is by far the least friendly place I’ve ever been,” I announce.
“I hate hearing that,” Sophia murmurs, her disappointment thick.
“You make up for it.” I pat her arm, and she beams at me.
Abigail pipes in again. “You two make me sick.”
“You’re just mad Sophia wouldn’t help out your girlfriend,” Connor says to Abigail. “She probably saw right through you two.”
I frown, confused. What is Connor talking about?
“Mr. Art Merit Scholar over here doesn’t have to worry about a thing, while other students who are far more deserving struggle to—” Priya jabs her elbow into Abigail’s side, silencing her.
Interesting.
“Far more deserving,” I parrot. “Gosh, Abigail, I didn’t know you cared. I assume you’re talking about me?” I ask, resting my hand against my chest like a prim southern belle. I’m trying to bait her, and the spark in her eyes tells me it’s working.
She rolls her eyes. “Your fancy American GPA is stellar. You have nothing to worry about.”
Freddie changes the subject and starts talking about someone grabbing more drinks while I sit there, muddling over what Abigail revealed.
Bringing up my GPA and calling it stellar.
How does she know? Abigail has obviously had a look at my transcripts …
which are completely fake. My real transcript shows my GED scores, which are pretty impressive if I do say so myself.
I have no idea what Peter’s identity-creating goons put in Belinda Winters’s transcript, but it must be, ahem, stellar.
The more important takeaway here? Abigail has a penchant for a phrase used to deface both a picture and my bedroom mirror. And she has access to my records.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
…
Later, after everyone has left the hot tub, I remain outside by the pool, draped in a pile of thick towels and stretched out across a lounge chair.
Connor, also covered in towels, is on the one next to mine.
Sophia went into the pool house to change into her dress, and last I saw, she was back inside with everyone else.
Connor and I are the only ones by the pool.
“Can I ask you something?” My voice is soft in the otherwise still night. Strains of music drift from within the house, as well as the dull roar of a crowd in conversation with itself. Despite us being at a party, I feel like we’re the only two people in the world.
“Depends.” Connor reaches out and grabs hold of my lounger, pulling me closer to his. “Is it something dirty?”
I burst out laughing, shocked. “You wish.”
“You’re right. I do.” He offers me a sly smile, and I return it.
“It’s about your sister.” His smile fades. “But I don’t want to upset you.”
“No. You won’t.” He blows out a harsh breath, staring straight ahead. “Ask away.”
“Was Emily a good student?”
His exhale comes more slowly this time, like he’s keeping a bubble afloat and doesn’t want to pop it.
Or maybe like he needs the time to answer.
“Not particularly. She always struggled in school. And it didn’t help that the curriculum at Wickham is so rigorous.
But the last couple of months, she seemed to be doing better.
I know Isla was helping her. They studied together constantly. ”
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 our troubles 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 courses through 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 loud boom sounds 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.