“No,” Aria said quickly. “He’s . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Actually, he’s into Klaudia.”
This suddenly struck her as ridiculous. She leaned over and laughed long and hard, tears streaming from her eyes.
Noel laughed awkwardly, not really getting the joke. After a moment, Aria gazed up at him. He looked so sweet, standing on the porch in baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt and rubber shower shoes over white gym socks, a look Aria had always hated. So Noel would never write a novel. So he’d never roll his eyes at the irony of the suburbs or whine about how everything here was so contrived and pretentious. But then she thought about how, on Christmas Day, Noel had appeared at Aria’s doorstep in a Santa Claus outfit with a bag of presents for her, all because she’d told him that her family never “did” Santa when she was little. And how, when Aria dragged Noel to the modern art wing at the Philadelphia Art Museum, he had patiently walked through the rooms with her, even buying a book about Picasso’s Blue Period at the gift shop afterward because he thought it was trippy. And he made Aria laugh: When the two of them had gone to the cooking class at Hollis, knives poised over green bell peppers, Noel had pointed out that they looked just like lumpy butts. The other students, mostly old ladies or sad bachelors probably taking the class to meet women, pursed their lips at them, which just made them laugh harder.
She stepped toward Noel. Her heart pounded as he leaned down, his breath sweet and warm on her face. They’d only been broken up for two weeks, but the moment their lips touched it felt like their very first kiss. Fireworks went off in Aria’s chest. Her lips tingled. Noel pulled her in and squeezed her so hard she thought she might burst. And, okay, it was drizzling outside, and Aria was pretty sure her mouth tasted like coffee, and Noel’s shower shoes were probably caked in mold. The moment wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t matter.
It just felt . . . right. Maybe even the right that Ella had talked about in the kitchen just moments ago. And for Aria, that was as perfect as perfect could be.
Chapter 36
THE REAL SPENCER F.
“Sorry it smells like chlorine,” Spencer said, lifting the lid of her family’s backyard hot tub, which had been closed up since last fall. She fiddled with the tie on her Burberry string bikini.
“I’m used to it,” Emily said. She was wearing one of her practice swimsuits, the shoulder straps stretched and the Speedo emblem almost worn off.
“As long as it’s warm, I don’t care,” Hanna seconded, stripping off her T-shirt to reveal a new Missoni bikini. And Aria shrugged, unzipping her hoodie, showing off a polka-dotted maillot that looked like it could have come from a 1950s time capsule.
Steam rose from under the hot tub cover. The water burbled invitingly. Percival, Spencer’s old yellow rubber duck, bobbed in the water, left there from the last time she’d taken a soak. Bringing Percival in here was a ritual of hers, back from when she was little and her parents only let her climb in the tub for a few minutes at a time. Their Ali always used to tease her about it, saying it was just as bad as a security blanket, but Spencer loved seeing the duck’s happy smiling face bobbing in the bubbles.
One by one, the girls stepped into the warm bath. Spencer had invited them over to rehash what had happened with Kelsey, but as soon as she saw Mr. Pennythistle—she should really start calling him Nicholas—fiddling with the lid to the tub earlier today she thought they might as well get some relaxation out of the visit, too.
“This feels awesome,” Aria murmured.
“Such a good idea,” Emily agreed. Her pale cheeks and forehead were already red from the heat.
“Remember the last time we were going to get in a hot tub together?” Hanna asked. “At the Poconos?”
Everyone nodded, staring into the steam. Ali had run under the deck to turn on the tub, leaving the girls alone on the porch. They’d all hugged and said how happy they were to be friends again.
“I remember feeling so happy,” Emily said.
“And then everything changed so fast,” Hanna said, her voice tight.
Spencer arched her neck up and looked for patterns in the gray clouds. That night at the Poconos felt like it was both yesterday and a million years ago. Would they ever get over it, or would it be something that haunted them for the rest of their lives?
“I found out what rehab hospital Kelsey’s in,” she said after a moment. “The Preserve.”
Everyone looked up, startled. The Preserve was where A had sent Hanna last year . . . and where Real Ali had spent all those years.
“The nurse on the phone said she can have visitors starting tomorrow,” Spencer went on. “I think we should go.”
“Are you serious?” Hanna’s eyes were round. “Don’t you think we should stay away from her?”
“We need to figure out what she really knows,” Spencer said. “Figure out how she became A. What she wanted with us.”