“Like what?”
“Stuff about me. My posture. My expressions. How I bite my lip when I’m trying to tell a lie. That I have a very expressive face. Granted, I wanted to be an actress, so I loved hearing those things, but it never felt like he was just blowing smoke up my ass or trying to impress me. He seemed sweet and sincere. I mean, he did flirt with me, but it was playful; the kind of things that could have dual meanings.”
“Did that bother you?”
“No. I liked it. I liked him. I had little fantasies about what being with a man would be like. And when he took me to dinner to thank me . . .”
“Thank you for what?”
“Oh, one day I came home from school really mad. I was pissed and walking down the beach and ran into him. He was upset. Told me that his grandmother had passed away and he was supposed to spread her ashes on the beach. He was having a hard time doing it. He didn’t really have anyone special in his life, I guess. And I was there. And I could relate because I had lost my dad. So I said some things that I hoped gave him comfort. He told me all about his grandmother, who was a famous actress, and her life. How she had met the love of her life on the beach. It was all very romantic—the kind of love I dreamed I would have with B. You know, we met each other on the beach, and it was love at first sight just like hers. He told me about his bad childhood at some point, too. About how his grandmother had taken him in and given him a better life. How he went to an exclusive prep school and how if you told yourself something enough, eventually, you’d believe it.”
“Like what?”
“Like being good enough. Being strong. Stuff like that. Anyway, he told me his grandmother would love that he spread her ashes on the beach with me. Because I was special. That he was going to make this amazing movie with me and every man who saw it would fall in love with me. Anyway, I held his hand and said a few words, and then we sprinkled her ashes and tossed the urn into the ocean. He texted me the next day, invited me to dinner. We had fun. Flirted. But he never took it further. Kissed me on the cheek goodbye. Held it way too long, but it was sweet, not at all creepy. We just talked a lot whenever I saw him. I told him things I hadn’t dared tell Brooklyn or my friends.”
“That’s why people tell bartenders their problems, right? Easier to tell a stranger than a friend.”
“Yeah, probably. Anyway, we saw each other like that off and on. And every time we did, we had these sweet little moments. He was on my beach the morning of my birthday. I was happy, doing cartwheels. He laughed at me. Videotaped me. Teased me about recreating my mom’s movie poster. I redid it for him my way. Turned around, tossed water at him, then blew him a kiss over my shoulder. I invited him to my birthday party. I was shocked when I figured out it was him who was trying to kidnap me. And, since then, I’ve questioned everything I’ve felt.”
“Even with me,” Aiden says.
“Yeah, mostly with you.”
“So what does your heart tell you now about Brooklyn?”
“That he’ll be okay for a while. But not for long. I think his having Brooklyn will be both motivation to get me and a reminder of the fact that he hasn’t yet.”
“That’s a fine line.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he has the seven days Garrett asked for?”
“Probably,” I say slowly.
“But what?”
“But I’m probably not going to wait that long.”
“You’ll go anyway?”
“I think I’ll have to.”
Aiden nods. “You keep saying that you don’t want me to help, but I’ll help you find him.”
“I’m surprised you’d say that. If I find him . . .”
“If you find him, Vincent will go to jail and you’ll have your life back.”
“Even if I don’t end up with you when I get it back?”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his green eyes, they are sparkling with moisture. “I’m trying not to consider that possibility.”
When I get back to my room, Katie gives me a hug and goes to sleep.
My friends have been treating me with kid gloves since I got back.
I’m sure they’ve all been filled in on what’s going on.
And I appreciate it.
A text pops up from Garrett right before I fall asleep.
Garrett: Remember the girl from the club? She was a message to you. I don’t think he’s going to hurt Brooklyn until he starts “filming his movie,” which we both know he can’t do without you. Not finding a body after almost twenty-four hours means we were right. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just a fact. And that fact makes me feel better. It should you too.
Me: Thanks.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 5TH
Talking about sex.
7:20am
I decide sitting around feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help Brooklyn or Garrett, so I take everyone’s advice, get up, and get ready for class.