The Perfectionists

Peters didn’t blink. “An eyewitness said they saw you on the dance floor with him. You were ‘all over him,’ as he describes it.”

 

 

Thank god Alex hadn’t come here with her. All at once, the memory of Nolan’s close, hot body pressed up against hers on the dance floor flashed into her mind. Does your boyfriend know you’re flirting with me? he’d said, his breath smelling like booze. It had taken everything in Ava’s power to keep it together. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. She remembered how hard her heart was pounding. How she kept peeking over her shoulder, terrified that Alex would step into the room and see what she was doing—she’d sent him on a wild-goose chase for her phone, which she said she’d left in his car, which was parked at the far end of the street. When Ava led Nolan upstairs, Alex was still probably searching for the phone that wasn’t there.

 

“Who told you that?” she blurted.

 

“Is it true?” Peters countered.

 

Ava twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I had too much to drink that night. But I have a boyfriend, and he knows Nolan and I were together a few years ago. He’s still jealous. I’d rather he didn’t know.”

 

“None of this will get back to him,” Peters assured her. “So you were flirting with Nolan?”

 

Ava weighed her options. If kids on the dance floor saw her, it might not be smart to lie. “I’m a flirt,” she said matter-of-factly. “Especially after a few beers.”

 

“Did you go upstairs with him?”

 

She drew back and made a face. “I wasn’t that drunk.”

 

“Someone said they saw you.”

 

From her bravest, strongest depths, Ava found the courage to look the detective in the eye. “Did one of Nolan’s buddies tell you that?” She leaned forward, batting her eyelashes. “Not every girl goes upstairs with guys at parties. Some of us have some dignity.”

 

“Okay, okay.” The detective flipped some pages of his notebook, staring at scrawl. “But someone went upstairs with Nolan that night—several eyewitnesses said they were sure they saw him going up with a girl. Any ideas who that might be?”

 

Ava shook her head, her long hair swishing back and forth. Her heart beat hard. “Nope.”

 

“And you weren’t . . . mad at Nolan for some reason? Because I heard you two had a bad breakup. Nolan even started some rumors about you, if I’m not mistaken? Rumors that you were . . . more than a ‘flirt,’ as you say. And maybe Nolan brushed you off at the party, wasn’t into what you wanted. Maybe you got angry.”

 

“I assure you, Nolan wasn’t the one who did the brushing off.” Ava paused, wondering if she’d been too sarcastic. “I’m sorry, Detective. But that’s all I know.”

 

“Can you tell me where you went after you danced with Nolan?”

 

“Back to my boyfriend. Where I belonged.”

 

“And he can vouch for you?”

 

“Of course,” Ava said, looking Peters straight in the eye. Alex had returned shortly after she’d snuck back downstairs; she’d found him in the kitchen after the prank. It was, mostly, the truth.

 

The detective stared at her for what felt like ages. Ava stared back, willing herself not to blink. They don’t know anything, she kept repeating to herself. All they know is that he went upstairs with a girl. And they don’t even know that, not really.

 

Finally, Peters drew back. “Okay, then,” he said. He tossed his empty coffee cup in a small trash can in the corner. “I’ll drive you back to school. Thanks for your time.”

 

Ava’s legs felt like Jell-O as she followed him down the long hall and climbed back into his squad car once more. After Peters slammed the door behind him and started the engine, he draped his arm over the back of the seats and smiled at her. “But you’ll tell me if you remember anything else, right? Anything at all?”

 

“Of course,” Ava said, smiling her brightest, most helpful smile back at him.

 

But what she really meant was, Like hell I will.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

“SO IT’S THE SEVENTY-SIXTH MINUTE of the game, and we’re tied with Kirkland. And we’re all on edge, because this is the game that decides who goes on to state. I’m hanging back in midfield, and here comes their forward.”

 

Caitlin poked at her salmon with the edge of her fork, only half listening as Josh recounted one of his soccer victories to the table. Next to her, her mother Sibyl laughed.

 

“I remember that kid,” she said. “He was massive. I couldn’t believe he could move that fast.”

 

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