“Fuller! We were about to grab dinner. Want to come?”
Calliope’s chest constricted. The newcomer was an older version of Cord, a little hardened by age, his smile a little more cynical. She prayed he wouldn’t remember her, but her hopes crumbled when he glanced her way and frowned in puzzled recognition. “Do I know you?”
“Unfortunately, I think not,” Calliope said lightly.
He shook his head. “No, we’ve met, in Singapore. You dated my friend Tomisen, and we went to that moonlight party on the beach?”
Calliope had never been recognized before. The world was becoming too small for people like her, she thought, trying not to reveal any trace of her fear. She just hoped that Brice didn’t know the rest of the story—that a week after the beach party, she’d asked Tomisen for a loan, closed her fake bitbanc account the moment his funds cleared, and skipped town.
She glanced at the door, its EXIT holo illuminated in glowing letters. Always know your way out, as her mom constantly reminded her. Just looking at the holo made Calliope feel calmer.
She sharpened her features into a smile and held out her hand. “Calliope Brown,” she said tartly. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else. Though she sounds quite fun, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Brice Anderton. Sorry, my mistake.” His grip was too firm on her hand, his voice tight with an unspoken threat.
“Please ignore my brother. He obviously has trouble remembering all the women he meets in his travels,” Cord joked, oblivious to the tension.
Brice still hadn’t let go of her hand. Calliope gently tugged at it, and he released it with obvious reluctance. “Why haven’t I met you before, Calliope Brown?” He said her name as if there were quotation marks around it, as if he wasn’t convinced it was hers.
“I don’t live in New York.”
“And where did you say you’re visiting from?”
She refrained from pointing out that she hadn’t, in fact, said. “London.”
The older boy’s expression shifted for a moment. “Interesting. You have a very unique accent.”
Calliope glanced at Atlas, but he was making some remark to Cord, ignoring her conversation with Brice. Her blood quickened a little.
“Since you aren’t from New York, I’m guessing you need a date to the Under the Sea ball,” Brice went on.
Calliope quickly lifted her gaze. “Under the Sea ball?” she repeated, like a moron, and caught herself. “That sounds fun,” she went on, raising her voice for Atlas’s benefit.
As if he’d seen and understood her intentions, Brice turned toward Atlas. “Fuller, your mom is chairing that Under the Sea party, right?”
“The Hudson Conservancy thing? I think so,” Atlas replied, puzzled.
So Atlas would be there.
Brice smiled, and Calliope couldn’t help thinking that there was something wicked in it. She wondered with a little thrill that was half panic, half excitement whether he’d seen through all her lies. It felt like he’d made that comment to Atlas specifically to bait her.
“So, Calliope,” Brice went on intently. “You’ll come to the party with me, right?”
She kept track of Atlas in her peripheral vision, even as her gaze remained on Brice. This was Atlas’s cue—he was supposed to interject and offer to take her himself. But he wasn’t saying anything.
Fine, then. Some part of Calliope knew it was a terrible idea for her to go out with the boy who had just almost recognized her, but wasn’t there an old saying about keeping your enemies close? And after all, a party was a party. She’d never been one to turn down an invite, no matter the occasion.
“I’d love to,” Calliope said to Brice, and held eye contact with him to link their contacts. His gaze was steady and unblinking.
By the time the Anderton brothers had said their good-byes, Calliope had decided that this might work to her advantage. There was no better way to get a boy’s attention than showing up to a party, dressed to kill, on someone else’s arm. She would make damned sure that Atlas regretted not asking her to that party first. And then she would take him for everything she could, before she and her mom skipped town.
It might just be her greatest con yet.
AVERY
THE SOUND OF bells rang clear and sweet through the cold night air. Avery nestled closer to Atlas beneath the pile of blankets, her heart pounding in excitement as their sleigh moved down the tree-lined path.
She still couldn’t quite believe they’d gotten away with this. It was Saturday night, and they were in Montpelier, Vermont—together, in the open. Far away from New York, with all its restrictions and limitations and nos.
Atlas had planned everything. They’d both been at the breaking point lately: walking around the apartment constantly tense and on eggshells, acutely aware of each other’s every move yet trying desperately to pretend they didn’t care at all. Avery felt like she’d been holding her breath since the Dubai announcement. When Atlas suggested that they get out of the city for a night, it had seemed too good to be true.
“I’m so glad we were able to sneak away.” Her breath came in puffs of crystallized cloud against the chill. She looked over at Atlas’s profile, his straight nose and the full line of his mouth, the light dusting of freckles across the pale peach skin of his cheekbones. By now his features were more familiar to her than her own. She could draw every line of his body blindfolded, she’d memorized him so thoroughly.
“Me too, Aves.” He reached an arm around her to pull her closer.
“You don’t think Mom and Dad will suspect anything?” She still felt nervous that they were both gone from home on the same night. It felt like an enormous red flag.
“Didn’t you tell them you’re at Leda’s?”
“Yeah,” Avery said shortly, though she’d actually told them Risha’s, on the off chance they pinged to check on her. She couldn’t trust Leda to cover for her, not anymore.
“And I told them that I’m going to the Rangers-Kings game in LA, with Maxton and Joaquin. I even bought the tickets to prove it. Don’t worry.”
Avery nodded, but she couldn’t help fidgeting a little, trying to quiet the nervousness that kept pricking at her. She was reminded of when she’d tried to steal a bag of sugar chips from the kitchen, once, when she was little. She’d pulled it off without a hitch, only to find that when she got the chips back to her room, she was too wrung out with anxiety to enjoy them.
Atlas noticed the movement and sighed. “Aves, I know that whole scene with Dad made you nervous, but I promise we’re safe here. And we only get this one night together, away from it all. Can’t we make the most of it?”
Avery silently cursed her own stubborn fear. She knew how much effort Atlas had put into planning this; trying to find somewhere they wouldn’t be recognized, something he knew she would love. And here she was, apparently doing her best to ruin it. She shifted beneath their temperature-controlled blanket so that her head was on his shoulder.