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  I know Grayson’s wondering the same things. Since the detectives came by he’s been humbled—I actually heard him thanking Paz and Alice for having his back—but I can hear the tapping of his heel against the floor when we eat in the dining room, and see the wariness in his eyes during class.

  I told Grayson he could trust me, but the man I work for may be using him to blackmail his father into changing his political stance away from things that might actually do this city good. I can still hear Ben telling Myra and me that Matthew Sterling might have been swayed by a big drug company like Wednesday Pharmaceuticals.

  Dr. O could be behind this, but if he is, I don’t know why he’d buy the senator when he wants him behind bars.

  I don’t need to know. I only need to do my job, even if it means everyone hates me.

  Even if Caleb can’t look at me.

  Even if Grayson goes to jail.

  Because staying in is my only way out.

  * * *

  SATURDAY NIGHT, I get ready for my first dance.

  The day’s been a rush of birthday preparations and decorating the tent that’s been set up in the backyard. Henry and I were in charge of hanging twinkle lights, while Caleb and Sam set up the music list and moved in tables and chairs.

  Sam and Charlotte seem to have reached an unsteady truce, but Caleb moves around me like the wrong side of a magnet. He’s mad Grayson’s still here, but there’s more to it—I lied to him when we were together. I didn’t tell him I’d sent Grayson away for his protection. Part of me is irritated Caleb’s upset by this when he’s the one following me around town. The other part is relieved he doesn’t know Grayson and I kissed.

  As the sun sets, I go to Charlotte’s room to get ready. Music and laughter pours down the hall, and even Geri’s singing along with a song on the radio eases the tension between my shoulders. We’ve finally caught a break in the storm.

  Or maybe we’re in the eye of the hurricane.

  “Straight or curls?” Charlotte asks as I lay the red dress we picked out the other day over the back of her chair. She’s holding a flatiron in one hand, a curling iron in the other, and has already done her makeup.

  “Dealer’s choice,” I say. My fingertips trail over the silky fabric, and I smirk a little, remembering Grayson’s four thousand muttered comments about how ridiculous it is to get dressed up for the same people you see every single day.

  Her smile is scary. “Come here, my little plaything.”

  Hesitantly, I pad her way, taking a seat on the desk chair she’s pulled into her bathroom. I’ve brought some of my makeup, but she’s got different colors from me, and while my neck warms from the heat of the curling iron she uses, I paint my eyes a dark coal color and line my lips with red.

  We don’t talk about the boys. We don’t talk about school or work. We focus on the party, and the music. We trade lipsticks and I help her straighten the back of her hair while she does the sides. We laugh and make silly faces in the mirror, but all the while there’s an unspoken pressure between us.

  She’s eighteen. This is our senior year. In the spring, we’ll graduate, and then Vale Hall will be nothing more than a memory.

  For all the times I’ve wished this assignment would be over, the end is coming too quickly.

  I put away those thoughts as we slide into our dresses and snap new pictures on our cleared-out phones. Charlotte looks incredible in her blue dress with her long, straight hair cascading down her back, and when she struts down the hall, I follow behind, awed at how she put this all together.

  She’s going to love my handmade Ginger Princess T-shirt. It even glows in the dark.

  “Pull it in,” she calls, and we all gather around her in the hall, giving our best pouty faces as she takes a dozen pictures. No one gives me dirty looks or ignores me for my role with Grayson. We cling to each other and laugh, and even Geri is grinning.

  I kind of wish Myra were here. Everyone here would like her.

  “To the party tent!” Charlotte cries, and we head down the stairs toward the back door. I’m the slowest in my borrowed heels, and as I reach the bottom step, the door to Dr. O’s office opens, and Grayson and the director step out.

  My stomach sinks like a stone. A dozen thoughts shoot through my head—is he in trouble? Am I? Did he get caught trying to break into that stupid safe again?

  Grayson groans and shakes his head, but he’s smirking.

  “You look ridiculous,” he says.

  “She looks lovely,” Dr. O amends. He’s beaming as he passes by. “I need to wish the birthday girl a happy eighteenth. Have a wonderful night, Brynn.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Dr. O’s gone, I grab Grayson’s elbow, only now realizing he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans and doesn’t meet Charlotte’s required attire for tonight’s event.

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing really.” He sighs. “He’s been checking in with me every day to make sure I’m all right.”

  “And?”

  “And I haven’t lit anything on fire in the last thirty minutes, so we’re good.”

  I pull him closer. “What about the phone?”

  He frowns. “What about your plan?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  The truth is I have no idea what to do about my job or Jimmy Balder, but I have a bad feeling that once I tell Dr. O what Mark told me, Grayson’s life will change. He’ll either have to testify against his father or go to jail. Either way, he won’t be as protected as Dr. O originally implied.

  “He’s sleeping there every night,” says Grayson. “And during the day everyone’s here.”

  Because we’re all on house arrest thanks to the visit from the detectives.

  “Everyone will be out at the tent tonight,” he adds quietly. “I can get into it then.”

  “With that axe?”

  A grin splits his face. “I don’t need one. I watched this video online. All you need is a magnet.”

  He’s serious.

  I pat him on the head. “You pull one off the fridge?”

  He rolls his shoulders back. “Maybe.”

  “You need a special magnet,” I say. “A neodymium magnet. And that only works for safes with a nickel solenoid locking mechanism.”

  His jaw drops open. I’ve clearly surpassed his video tutorial.

  “That safe has a combination lock,” I say. “The best way in is code.”

  “So, like his birthday. That’s what my dad’s is.”

  “You’re sweet.” Like the director of a secret conning school would use something as obvious as his birthday to lock up murder evidence.

  He swears. “How do you know all this?”

  I tried to break into Pete’s safe a few times before I came here—thought I could use some of that gambling money to get out of Devon Park. I cracked it once, but was too chicken to take anything.

  “Call it a hobby,” I tell him. “You’re not going to the party?”

  He scoffs, and his eyes dip down to my lips for the briefest moment. It’s enough to spark a memory of our kiss, and we both take a quick step back.

  Awkwardness settles between us. We haven’t spoken about what happened, and if I have my way, we never will. I need to be more careful around him. I let my feelings about Caleb interfere and lost sight of the boundary between mark and con.

  I put my future at risk.

  I put Grayson’s future at risk.

  That can’t happen again, even if there’s something settling about being close to him. Even if sometimes I’m not sure it was as wrong as I thought.

  “Parties aren’t really my scene,” he says, scowling at the back door, where the girls are now waving good-bye to Dr. O.

  “They aren’t mine, either. That doesn’t mean Charlotte won’t murder us if we don’t show.”

  “Murder you, maybe. Nobody cares if I’m there.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His head tilts forward. “I’m not stupid,
you know. Henry wants me. The hotel heiress tolerates me for your sake. Everyone else is nice.”

  I brush off Charlotte’s alias, really hoping he’s not right about Henry. “And?”

  “My dad’s been in politics all my life. Nice is code for talking shit behind your back.”

  His blunt explanation takes me by surprise. I never took him to be the most popular kid at school—whenever I saw him with others he was always rude and aloof. But people still surrounded him, either because his father is a big deal or because they wanted to see what stupid thing he’d do next.

  Here, he’s nothing special—we pull the kinds of stunts he does for fun every day for work. Now that he’s become a burden to our security, no one is impressed.

  My hands find my hips. “Since when do you care about what everyone else wants?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t.”

  “So come.”

  He sighs.

  “Come with me,” I say. “We’ll figure out the safe later.”

  He glances over at my bare shoulders, and I swear I can feel his lips against mine again. I look away.

  “It’s kind of sweet how desperate you are for me,” he says. “I mean, it’s a little pathetic, I can’t even get a single night to myself. But it’s cute, too.”

  I punch him in the shoulder.

  “You hit me a lot,” he says.

  “You say a lot of things that make me want to hit you.”

  He smiles. “I’m not dressing up.”

  “You don’t look that good when you do.”

  He barks out a laugh, then holds out his arm. I link mine through his.

  “Try not to drool all over me,” he says. “It’ll make everyone uncomfortable.”

  “I’ll try.”

  By the time we reach the back doors, everyone is already inside the tent. It glows in the night, pulsing with light from within. The steady thump of the bass echoes through my bones, even from a distance.

  Grayson stiffens with each step, but I pull him forward. I don’t want him digging through Dr. O’s office while we’re all dancing. I don’t want to think of him upstairs, alone in his room.

  I want him here. With us.

  As we approach the tent, nerves flutter through my chest. I know everyone inside, and like Grayson said, it’s stupid to dress up for each other, but I feel like a different person right now. A girl who wears satin, not a knife. Who has friends, even if they’re not all speaking to me.

  But I shouldn’t feel this way. Not when I’m standing next to my mark.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  He blows out a breath. “I guess.”

  We step inside, through the vinyl flaps pulled open like drapes. Twinkle lights line the upper corners of the tent and crisscross over the sloped ceiling. Votive candles are lit on every round table. A sign reading Happy Birthday Charlotte! hangs on the side of the room. Beside the entrance, Ms. Maddox stands beside a table, serving sparkling cider in fancy stemmed glasses with a smile stretched across her face. Dr. O and Shrew are making a terrible attempt at dancing the twist in the corner. Moore is beside them, eyeing the students in the center of the tent suspiciously.

  When he sees us, his gaze narrows, but I send him a small wave to let him know there’s nothing to worry about.

  “Good,” says Grayson. “Food.”

  He leaves my side to head to a table to the left, covered with appetizers, small bites of pizza, and an enormous chocolate cake adorned with sugared flowers. Charlotte is there talking to Sam, and to my relief, neither seem to be combusting in each other’s presence. Henry is beside them, wearing a full tux and posing like a blond James Bond.

  When Grayson walks by, Henry immediately stops and pulls at the bottom of his jacket. He looks like he’s going to say something to Grayson, but then bows out at the last second, double-fisting the appetizers.

  Grayson was right when he said Henry wanted him, and though I’m mildly amused, I can’t help worrying Henry’s about to get his heart stomped on.

  The music is loud, the beat fast and hard-hitting. Soon my knees are bouncing the smallest bit, and my hips are swaying, just a little. A self-conscious heat rises up my body as I watch the other girls on the wooden floor in the center of the tent, their arms raised, their gorgeous dresses and perfect hair already forgotten as they dance.

  I’m envious of how they let go.

  I can’t do that, not with Grayson here. Not ever.

  I’m not sure the exact moment it starts, but soon I become aware of a heat on the side of my face. It travels down my neck and bare shoulder, over my arms to my fingertips, and down my leg to my toes. It’s the feeling of being watched, and when I turn my head, my breath catches and the small movements of my body cease.

  Caleb stands across the dance floor, wearing a black suit and a crisp white button-down, open at the collar. His lips are parted, his black hair casually mussed. His glasses reflect the twinkling lights, hiding his eyes.

  I can’t move.

  The heat of his gaze deepens until my insides feel like pulled taffy. I remember the way his hands feel on my face when he kisses me, and the way his eyes always flick to my mouth when I talk. I miss the smell of his soap, and his hair in my hands, and the way he adjusts his glasses when they slide down his nose. How he bites his top lip when he’s studying. How his jeans hang off his hips.

  I can see every word he wrote on the notes he taped to the roof our first night there. I’ve traced his drawings of my face in his book with my fingertip dozens of times.

  I miss him.

  “We’re dancing!”

  I’m jolted out of Caleb’s hold by Charlotte, who grabs my hand as she sweeps by and drags me onto the floor. I lose sight of Caleb for a second, going through the motions with the other girls as I search for him through the sea of bodies.

  Then he’s there again, on the outskirts, watching me with a cockeyed smile. I shake my hips and he laughs a little, holding my gaze. I spin in a circle, and he moves, and mouths wow when I flip my hair back.

  Sam joins us, and then Grayson’s there, too, dragged by Henry. There’s something liberating about the dark, and the music, and the moving people all around us. Charlotte and I hold hands and jump around, and then Sam spins me, and Henry and I waltz.

  Grayson’s hands are on my waist; we’re close, but it’s not weird. It’s fun, and when he turns to Henry and they start bouncing off each other like a mosh pit, everyone laughs and joins in.

  Then Caleb’s in front of me, and his hands fall automatically to my hips. I step closer, into the circle of his arms. He leans forward to whisper, “Is this okay?” and when he looks up I know he’s searching for Grayson.

  No one’s watching right now, and even if they were, it would be weird if we didn’t dance—everyone else is. So I sling my hands around his neck and swing my hips, and try not to think too much about his eyes on my shoulders, or all the places we’re pressed together, or that he isn’t mine anymore, even in secret.

  “See?” I say back, and he tilts closer to hear. “Girls aren’t that terrifying.”

  His grin stretches into a full smile, and I know he’s thinking of the roof, the night he told me about Sophie Gomez and how she broke up with him for not dancing with her at the Winter Ball.

  We’re smashed together by the people jumping behind us. His stomach and chest press against my stomach and chest. His belt buckle digs into my belly button, his fingers spread over my lower back. We should back off—people will see, people will know—but we don’t.

  “Sorry,” he says. When my eyes lift to his, his mouth flattens. He leans close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispers, “I’m sorry,” again, only this time it isn’t about us jostling together.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I say.

  I watch his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows. His fingertips press into my waist. One hand rises and skims along the bottom of my hair.

  My heart slows, then pounds harder, thunder booming within my ri
bs.

  I move closer, watching his lips.

  “Brynn.” I can’t hear my name, but I feel it, pounding through me with the bass. I move closer, gripping the collar of his shirt.

  We’re shoved apart as Grayson and Henry crash through us, and as I lift my chin, Henry’s pointed stare says I need to check myself. If he can see what’s happening between Caleb and me, everyone can.

  I need to be more careful. I don’t know what I was thinking.

  The music changes to a slow song.

  “Boo,” says Grayson, but I pull myself together fast enough to grab him and drag him against me.

  “Shut up,” I tell him.

  “All right.” He pulls me closer, and I adjust his hands as they sink too low on my back.

  I rest my head on his shoulder. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, no doubt, by my sudden affection, but soon he’s with me, swaying to the beat, moving his hands as if he never quite knows where to put them.

  Beside us, Charlotte and Sam are kissing, and Paz and Joel are really kissing, and Henry is rocking from side to side with Alice and Beth and Bea, singing at the top of their lungs.

  And behind all of them, Caleb and Geri are dancing.

  I watch as she pulls him closer and moves his hand to the base of her spine. Her fingers play with his hair and slide down his neck. She’s made it clear she’s not into him, and he’s made it clear he’s still into me, but the song still feels like it lasts a million years.

  Finally, it ends, and Caleb quickly retreats, heading toward the front of the tent.

  As he passes me, his hand slides over the side of my hip, but he doesn’t slow. A glancing touch, and then he’s gone. Outside.

  I wait until Grayson and Henry are loading their plates with food, and then I follow.

  CHAPTER 23

  I go to the gardens.

  I’m not positive that’s where Caleb went, but it’s close, and private, and people will see if we head back to the house alone.

  In silence, I pass under the trellis, rubbing my hands up and down my arms to fight off the chill in the night air. Muffled music blasts from the tent behind me. I glance back to make sure I haven’t been followed.