A shrill whistle blew. The train puffed into the station, and Hanna waited excitedly as all of the passengers disembarked. Mike brought up the rear, shouldering the Jack Spade bag she’d bought him last Christmas. Hanna let out a squeal and waved for him, but when Mike looked up at her, his eyes were dead. He walked toward her, and then past her, heading up the stairs.
“Uh, hello?” Hanna said, scampering behind him. “How many beers did they give you on the train? Are you so drunk you forgot what your girlfriend looks like?”
Mike reached the top of the stairs, but instead of heading for Hanna’s car, he walked toward the auxiliary lot. “Where are you going?” Hanna demanded, suddenly feeling nervous.
“My dad’s picking me up,” Mike said in monotone.
“Mike.” Hanna grabbed his sleeve. “I have a car here. What’s going on?”
Mike glared at her coldly. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he’d been crying. Hanna’s heart started to beat hard. Finally, he shoved his phone at her. “Is this your surprise?”
Hanna stared at the screen. It was the mobile site for TMZ. BURN IT DOWN COSTARS COZYING UP! read the headline in garish red lettering. And there, just below, was a picture of Hanna and Jared—kissing at the nightclub in New York.
Hanna could feel the blood draining from her face. “H-he kissed me for one second,” she blurted. “And then Hailey snapped a picture before I pulled away.”
Mike snorted. “Yeah, right.” He grabbed the phone back. “Then why does the article say you kissed him? You would do anything for the attention of a big movie star, even cheat on your boyfriend?”
“Mike, no!”
She reached for him, but he ducked away. “A guy on my floor sent me the link when I was only fifteen minutes away from here. ‘Hey, your girlfriend’s hooking up with some other guy.’ Some of the comments even said you submitted this yourself.”
“Of course I didn’t!” Hanna roared.
“So who did?”
Hanna blinked hard. All at once, it came to her. I’m going to hurt you, Hailey had said. It made perfect sense.
She lowered her eyes. If she hadn’t been so ambitious, if she hadn’t wanted to be a star so badly, none of this would have ever happened. She couldn’t even blame any of this on Ali. She’d brought all this on herself.
“Mike, I’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. “Please, let me explain.”
Mike hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “I have to go,” he muttered, heading toward the auxiliary lot. For the second time that day, Hanna watched as someone she cared about walked away from her in angry silence.
26
ARIA’S ANGEL—OR DEVIL—INVESTOR
The boning on the emerald-green strapless dress Aria was wearing to Rosewood Rallies dug into her boobs, and she was wearing uncomfortable heels, but when she glanced at herself in the long mirror in the lobby of the country club, she had to admit she looked pretty damn good. So did her dad, who had on a dark suit, and Meredith, who wore a structured red dress with a gardenia tucked behind her ear.
But it was Harrison who looked truly amazing. He’d shown up in Rosewood earlier that day wearing a crisp, slim-fit black suit with a huge bouquet of flowers for Aria. Now, as he regarded the two of them in the mirror, he slung his arm around her waist. “I am, without a doubt, with the prettiest girl in the room.”
Aria ducked her head bashfully and said something that came out like, “Oh, you.” She wanted to feel something for Harrison—she really did. He was perfect for her: He said sweet things, he fawned over her, and they had the same interests. But a nagging feeling told her she should have felt more flattered than she did, more fluttery, more turned on by how gorgeous he looked in that suit. Right now it was hard to muster up any feeling at all beyond generalized nervousness at being back in the Rosewood Country Club among all her peers.
She looked around. Even though she hadn’t been there since the party Mona Vanderwaal had thrown for Hanna after she was hit by a car—the very night, in fact, they’d discovered Mona was A—the place hadn’t changed a bit. The same plaid wallpaper and heavy mahogany paneling covered the walls, the same ornate carpet lined the floors, and it still smelled like a mixture of cigars, red wine, and cream sauce. There were tons of people milling about in the main ballroom already, looking perfect in their gowns and suits with drinks in hand. A gaggle of kids in their country-club best were running up the dramatic double staircase past the lobby. A large ROSEWOOD RALLIES sign was propped up on a table, complete with photos and a description of the charity they were supporting. People barely looked at it, though, more interested in finding their place cards to see which room their family was seated in. Aria couldn’t help but notice that no one here particularly looked like a troubled or disadvantaged youth, either.