After school that day, Aria climbed the stairs in her house holding a lacquered tray her father had brought back from a trip to China. On it were two plates of fried tofu spring rolls that she’d specially made for her and Noel. She’d garnished each dish with basil, green onions, soy sauce, and even two red roses she’d plucked from her mother’s vase in the kitchen. Ella’s boyfriend, an artist named Francis who was on a month-long trip to Berlin, had sent them to her, but he sent her roses all the time, so Aria figured Ella wouldn’t miss a couple.
She kicked open the door to find Noel splayed on her bed, reading ESPN magazine. “Dinner is served,” she chirped in a faux French accent. “I think I even got the wraps right.” They’d learned to make them in a cooking class they’d taken together.
Noel smiled at the steaming food. “This smells way better than when we made it in class. Have you been practicing?”
Aria propped up a fringed pillow against the headboard. “Maybe a little . . . for you.” She touched his hand. “We haven’t seen each other much lately. And the last time was so . . . weird.”
It was hard to spit the word out. Weird didn’t begin to describe her Ali-terrogation. Since she wasn’t texting or calling, she and Noel had barely spoken in the past few days. Aria hadn’t realized how much they relied on technology to communicate.
But maybe it was good: She needed some space to clear her mind. Though she’d never admit it to her friends, there were a few other things about Noel she couldn’t get out of her head. Like how Noel’s house was filled with pictures of the family at the picnic grounds at Keppler Creek—Mr. Kahn said the fishing there was the best in the state. Noel had gone hiking and fishing there with his brothers a few times last winter, spring, and summer. Some of the trips had been before Real Ali reappeared, some of them after. He’d never invited Aria, and she’d thought nothing of it. Should she have?
Noel popped a spring roll into his mouth and swooned. “You can even make tofu taste awesome.”
“That’s one reason to keep me around,” Aria teased, trying to make her voice sound carefree.
“I can think of a few other reasons, too.” Noel set his plate on the end table, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her on top of him. “The only tastier thing than this dinner is you.”
Aria snuggled into his neck. Noel ran his hands through her hair and kissed her lips. She shut her eyes and tried to relax. A traitor wouldn’t touch her like this. Even the best actor in the world wouldn’t be able to caress her so affectionately.
Beep.
Aria shot up in bed. She stared at her new phone. It wasn’t blinking . . . but Noel’s, which was sitting on Aria’s desk next to his wallet, was. He sat up and studied the screen. “Huh. Is this an international number?” he asked, showing her.
Aria tried to process the long string of numbers in the text box, but before she could, Noel opened the text. Normally, Aria would have looked away, but she caught sight of her name in the message. As she read the words, a sinking feeling crept over her skin.
Look in Aria’s closet. She has something to show you.
Noel snorted. “Freaking international spam. They’re getting so good they know our names now.” He hit DELETE. “Look in Aria’s closet,” he said in a mock-ominous voice, punctuating it with a Dracula laugh. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing,” Aria squeaked. She tried to take a breath but hiccupped nervously instead.
Noel pulled away and searched her face. “Are you sure about that?” he teased.
He was still laughing, which made Aria feel even worse. “Yes!” she said, but her voice was too loud and high-pitched.
A beat passed. Noel swung his legs off the bed and started toward the closet. He had the same look on his face he got when he was about to tickle her. “Is it the bogeyman?”
“Don’t open it. It’s a huge mess in there.”
Noel shrugged. “I bet mine’s messier.”
Aria glanced at Noel’s phone lying faceup on the bed. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t tell him about the painting. It was bad enough the case had been reopened and that the police had new evidence and an anonymous tip—which Aria was sure was from A. She couldn’t involve Noel in this. The last thing she wanted was for him to go away for life, too.
“Come here,” Aria said, pulling Noel back to the bed.
She kissed his neck softly, hoping it would distract him. But his muscles were stiff; he pulled away from her and inspected her carefully. “What’s with you?”
“What do you mean?” Aria peppered his cheek with kisses. “I’m fine.”
Noel sat up. “You’re totally not fine. I don’t get you lately. Like, really don’t get you. And it’s starting to scare me. I’m starting to think you’re . . . I don’t know. Not telling me something.”
Now it was Aria’s turn to tense up. “Don’t think that,” she squeaked.
Noel sat back. “Whatever it is, I’ll still love you. But don’t lie to me anymore. There’s something. I can tell.”