Aria sank down into the couch and stared out the window at the Kahns’ backyard guesthouse. Last week, while she and Noel were broken up, Ezra Fitz, Aria’s teacher-slash-boyfriend, had returned to Rosewood in hopes of winning her back. Everything had played out like the fantasy that had been running constantly in Aria’s head ever since Ezra had left town, until, unexpectedly, the dream turned sour. Ezra wasn’t the guy she remembered, but instead someone who was needy and insecure. When Aria couldn’t give Ezra the ego boost he needed, he’d turned to Klaudia instead. Last week, Aria had caught them making out in a coatroom at a cast party for the school’s production of Macbeth. Since then, Klaudia had bragged loudly that she and Ezra had gone on sexy dates around Rosewood and that they were apartment-hunting in New York City, where Ezra lived.
“I don’t care that Klaudia and Ezra are together,” she said, meaning it. “I’m with you.”
Noel put down the remote and pulled her close. Their lips met in a kiss. Noel pressed his hands along the sides of her face, then touched her neck and shoulders. His fingers grazed her bra strap, and she could tell he wanted more. She pulled away slightly. “We can’t. Not with your parents downstairs.”
Noel moaned. “So?”
“Perv.” She hit him playfully, but felt a pang of longing, too. That was another thing that had changed: Since they’d reunited, they’d slept together for the first time. It had happened only a few days ago, in Noel’s bedroom on a rainy afternoon, and it was all Aria could have hoped for—tender, slow, amazing. They’d whispered how much they cared about each other, and afterwards, Noel had told her it had been so special. Aria was glad they’d waited. They’d done it for the right reason—love.
Noel leaned back on his elbows and examined her. “Let’s never let anyone get between us again. Not Klaudia, not Ezra, no one.”
“Deal.” Aria massaged Noel’s forearm.
“I mean it.” Noel sat up straighter and looked into her eyes. “I want us to be completely honest with each other. No more secrets. That’s why my parents are still together—they don’t hide anything. I don’t want us to, either.”
Aria blinked hard. What would he say if she told him about what she’d done in Iceland this past summer? What would he say if she told him that she and her old friends had shoved the person they thought was Real Ali off the roof in Jamaica, only to find out later that it was actually an innocent girl named Tabitha Clark? What would he say about New A, the anonymous text messager who’d begun to torment Aria and her friends with their darkest secrets?
And who was new A? Spencer’s ex-friend, Kelsey Pierce, had made so much sense—she’d been in Jamaica over spring break, and Spencer had framed her for drug possession last summer. But when they’d confronted Kelsey at the Preserve at Addison-Stevens mental hospital, she genuinely hadn’t seemed to know about Tabitha or A.
And then there was the inscription on the bench they’d seen outside the hospital. TABITHA CLARK, RIP, it said, listing the dates Tabitha had been a patient at the Preserve. They matched the dates Real Ali had been there, too—clearly Tabitha and Real Ali had known each other.
“Hello? Aria?”
Noel was staring at her curiously. “You disappeared on me. Everything okay?”
“Of course,” Aria lied. “I . . . I was just thinking about how amazing you are. How I completely agree with being honest all the time.”
Noel’s face relaxed into a smile. He held up his Sprite. “Great. So no more secrets?”
“No more secrets.” Aria lifted her Sprite, too, and they touched the cans just like the Kahns had toasted at dinner. “Starting now.”
Okay, so “starting now” was a little bit of a cheat. But the horrible crimes Aria had committed were in the past, and they needed to stay that way—forever.
2
SPENCER’S NEW CHALLENGE
That night, a slim woman in skinny black pants proffered Spencer Hastings and her family four slices of cake on a silver tray. “Okay, we have chocolate with coffee frosting, vanilla sponge with lemon buttercream, chocolate cake with Frangelico liqueur, and carrot.” She placed them on the table.
“Looks delicious.” Spencer’s mother grabbed her fork.
“You’re trying to make my wife-to-be fat, aren’t you?” Mr. Pennythistle, Mrs. Hastings’s new fiancé, joked.
Polite laughter ensued. Spencer clutched her own silver fork hard, trying to keep a smile pasted on her face even though she thought the joke was pretty lame. She was with her mother, her sister, Melissa, Melissa’s boyfriend, Darren Wilden, Mr. Pennythistle, and Mr. Pennythistle’s daughter, Amelia, at Chanticleer House. Mrs. Hastings and Mr. Pennythistle had chosen the stone mansion with its enormous private garden for their upcoming summer nuptials.
Amelia, who was two years younger than Spencer and went to St. Agnes, the snootiest school on the Main Line, tentatively poked her fork into the slice of carrot cake. “The cakes from Sassafras Bakery are prettier,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Melissa took a bite and swooned. “They might be prettier, but this buttercream frosting is heaven. As maid of honor, I vote we go with this one.”