Love.

He was going to tell me he loved me. What was even more unreal, I think I was prepared to say it back. My enemy but my comrade and now the only person I wanted next to me at night.

He made me laugh. He made me question everything I thought I knew about people—especially him. He was kind and funny and a horrible dancer, but he was real and I think I loved him. So much I might even attend a football game. No, not that much, but close.

I turned to face him, and he dropped his eyes to the dirt forest floor, kicking at an exposed tree root.

“The sign said the cliff edge is up ahead a half mile.” I hopped around, trying to quell my nerves. “Maybe we should wait and talk over there?”

“No,” Gray quickly replied, rubbing his palms over his jacket.

God, he was so nervous. I knew what was coming. He’d all but said it in the diner yesterday and on the beach last night. Hardly able to sleep, I’d thought it over all night—I loved Gray.

“I know, Gray.”

“You know?” His head shot up to mine, and a blanket of relief covered his face, bringing his cheeks back to their normal olive glow. “Oh, thank God, Sydney.”

He opened his arms, and I rushed inside them. “I love you, too,” I whispered into his chest, and he pulled me back to face him. His eyes were glistening, waterlogged with emotion. He was going to say it back.

“Sydney, I—”

“You kids need to leave.” A park ranger wearing fatigue green came from behind Gray, and we both jumped. “Trail’s closed for the season for maintenance. There’s a rockslide up ahead.” He pulled a piece of paper from his chest pocket. “I came out here to inspect the cliff side because this note says—”

Gray snatched the note from his hand and tucked it into his pocket. “We know what it says,” he hissed, grabbing my hand. “We’re leaving. Didn’t see a sign.”

“I did,” I admitted. “But following the rules has never been my thing.”

The ranger frowned and jerked his head toward the trail entrance. “Not following the rules gets you hurt.”

Gray barely spoke the whole way home. I was sure he felt the same way, but there was something wrong and I couldn’t put my finger on it. When I asked, he just lifted our intertwined hands and tucked them into his lap.

“What were you going to say back at the park?” I asked, trying not to sound like an insecure girl, but I totally was. I didn’t like this feeling. I felt vulnerable and exposed. Gray knew how I felt, and he’d said nothing in return. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

Dropping his hand, I pulled mine back to my lap.

“No, Sydney,” he said as we entered campus. “What you said… was great. It was awesome. I just couldn’t say it ba—”

“Why?” I interrupted, intentionally cutting off his words.

They would be embarrassing and painful, and I felt immediate regret for putting myself out there. Even though we’d been tossed into one another’s lives for the last six weeks, it was too soon for feelings like love. What was I thinking?

He let out a heavy sigh. “Not because I don’t.” He stopped the car in front of my dorm. “I need to talk to you after whatever the hell you have to do tonight. Will you come by the house, please?”

“Gray, I don’t und—”

Gray grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a long, desperate kiss. It was romance-movie worthy, and I couldn’t tear myself away. Neither could he, but as he pulled me closer, I caught the time on the dash.

“Shit. It’s half past four. I’m going to be late.” Pulling away from his arms, I opened the passenger door. “I’ll be over at ten thirty,” I said, and he gave me a gloomy half smile. I would’ve loved to overanalyze that smile if I wasn’t going to be late for my Sunday Lane segment.

I skipped every other step, rushing into my dorm room. Upon entering and shutting the door, darkness flooded my small quarters, and I slid my hand across the wall, feeling for the light switch.

Wait… I know it’s here somewhere… All I could feel was something like duct tape holding the switch down.

“Hello,” a thin, disembodied voice came from the shadows, slamming my heart against my ribcage. “Nice of you to join us,” it said, followed by at least ten seconds of repetitive attempts to click something, then a string of, “Goddammit.”

After the last click, a dim glow flooded the room. A tall, ski-masked figure wearing a black leotard stood on my desk chair, lowering an arm from the light source.

Oddly, the light came from my short, squat, battery-powered desk lamp, which was now somehow hanging from the ceiling light. Allison’s curling iron cord was wrapped around the lamp’s base, and it swung from the ceiling like we were in a police interrogation room.

After taking a second to admire my intruder’s creativity, I grabbed my Mace.

“No.” Allison’s frantic shriek came from under the ski mask. “Don’t. I can’t have red eyes during my freshman yearbook photo.” She pulled the mask off her head, and her golden locks fell across her slim shoulders. Hopping down from the chair, she took a seat.

“Allison? Why didn’t you just use the ceiling light?” Glancing around the room, I could see she was the only one here. “Who’s us?”

“What?” Allison asked, crossing one slender leg over the other.

“You said, ‘Nice of you to join us.’”

“Oh.” She kicked an empty chair toward me. “They always say that in the movies.” Allison pointed her finger at the chair. “Sit.”

I knew what was coming. Let me have it.

Allison knew my secret, and I was about to get the shit kicked out of me by Ninja Barbie.

“I’m not like you,” she said, acid dripping from every word. “Unlike you, Sydney, I have a soul. I’m a good person.” She pointed a finger to her chest and leaned forward. “I was voted most likely to go to heaven in my preparatory school.”

“Allis—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, grabbing a stack of paper off my desk. “You’ve certainly dug yourself into a hole this time. I almost went through with it.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together, showing me a sliver of space. “I was this close,” she said with a hiss.

“This close to what?”

She tossed a paper toward me, and it dramatically swept up into the air and landed behind her. She did it again, and this time it gracefully landed under my bed. Finally, she leaned over and handed me a third one. “Here you go.”

SUNDAY LANE IS SYDNEY PORTER it read along the top. Hmmm, very straightforward and to the point. Then there was a picture of me lying by a pool, wearing sunglasses and a bikini, pretending to grab a cabana boy’s butt when he wasn’t looking.

“Where did you get this picture?” It was taken two years ago on a trip to the Dominican Republic with my friend Lucy.

“Facebook. No one hides from Facebook. It’s God’s naughty or nice list, and you, Sydney Porter, have been a very, very bad girl.”

Chapter Forty

Between pacing my bedroom and checking my phone every minute, I was slowly losing my mind. Sydney’s radio segment was prerecorded. I knew it was old because I’d heard that same diatribe about the dubious cafeteria sloppy joe meat before. Sydney had questioned the meat’s authenticity. She speculated the campus’ feral cat population had conveniently declined at the same time the sandwiches made the Northern menu.

So what was she doing all this time? And did I really want to know?

It was close to eleven when her truck pulled into the driveway. When I heard her douse the engine, a mixture of trepidation and relief settled into my already churning stomach, but mostly the fear part.

This was it.