“She didn’t tell you?”
I just look at him. He dated her long enough that he should know better than to ask. If Gretchen was mad about something, there was no talking to her. If you tried, she deflected your words back at you like shrapnel.
He runs his hand through his hair. “Kirsten tried to come on to me. Gretchen found us.”
“Wait. Did you say Kirsten?” I was sure the two of them hooking up was just a rumor.
“She was pretty drunk. She just started kissing me. I would never have let it go anywhere, but Gretchen found us in a room together right when Kirsten decided to take her shirt off. Gretchen made her put it back on and threw her out.”
I try to imagine this. Shy, awkward Kirsten, who Gretchen teased on her sixteenth birthday for never being kissed, trying to seduce Gretchen’s loner ex-boyfriend. Neither she nor Gretchen had been acting like themselves the night of the party. I can’t remember ever seeing Kirsten drunk before. But it still strikes me as nuts.
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you had sex with Gretchen.”
“Yeah . . .” He looks at his shoes.
I force my mouth closed, but it’s actually starting to make sense. Gretchen’s exes always seemed to have trouble moving on after she was done with them—and she was always the one to end it. I can’t think of a single time she was dumped. If Kirsten was drunk and trying to prove something to her sister, poor rejected Marcus would’ve been an easy target, and Gretchen wouldn’t have reacted well to finding them together.
“So, help me out with something here,” I say.
He raises his head.
“You and Gretchen had breakup sex—sort of. After her sister came on to you. Kirsten got pissed, they fought, Gretchen and I went home. You supposedly went home too, to check on your grandmother.” He nods slowly. I wet my lips, knowing this is a long shot. “At some point, Gretchen went back out into the woods . . . and so did you. Is that just a coincidence?”
Marcus stares at me, his face reddening. I stare back. I’ve had a feeling he wasn’t telling me everything, but I wait for him to speak. He exhales, closing his eyes.
“I missed her . . . I wanted to get back together.”
I press my mouth into a line. I’m not exactly shocked to hear this—I swear Gretchen left a permanent mark on guys’ hearts. I just had this idea Marcus wasn’t like the rest of them.
I look away, annoyed with myself for being disappointed.
He grabs his mug and rises to his feet. “I need more coffee.”
I open my mouth, but he’s gone before I can speak. Behind him on the chair, he left his sketchbook open to a blank page. I look in the direction he disappeared and lean over, lifting just the top couple of pages, hoping for another glimpse of Summer Wentworth. An intricate flowering vine grows wild and twisting all over the first page I turn to, like it was planted there instead of sketched. It’s strange and beautiful, like nothing I’ve ever seen. But then I look more closely and notice the flowers have faces and each of them is frozen in a scream.
I think of what Kip said about the sketch of Gretchen and I let the page drop, the tremor in my fingers telling me it’s past time to leave. I reach for my bag, pull myself out of the awkward seat, but then Marcus appears and shoves me back, landing in the chair with me.
“Sheriff Wood and Deputy Rashid just came in and ordered coffee.”
His voice is low, but surprisingly calm in my ear—a sharp contrast to my heart, which is attempting to hammer its way free. I twist sideways, trying to peek around the edge of the upholstery, but Marcus’s hands are on my shoulders, holding me in place.
“They won’t stay long—at least they don’t usually.” His grip is warm through my sleeves and there’s the slightest hint of hazelnut on his breath. “If we stay still, there’s a good chance they won’t come over and see you with me.”
I shift my hips, but there isn’t enough chair to keep us from touching and I’m very aware of the places we meet. I turn my head and our noses brush. His eyes are locked on mine, our lips a breath apart. The more I try not to think about my body pressed against his, the hotter my face gets. He tilts his head—
I panic.
“What if they do come over?” In my head this sounds like: What would Gretchen think?
He takes his hands off my shoulders and I wish I hadn’t asked. He holds one finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
The guy behind the counter calls out something unintelligible, and I panic for a moment, wondering if this is some kind of raid and the sheriff will question everyone here. But a moment later, Marcus gets to his feet. I peel myself out of the chair and peer out the front window in time to see Sheriff Wood and Amir crossing the parking lot with cups of coffee before climbing into the Explorer.