As she tells me stories of our scandalous adventures, I realize there are times when I feel at ease being with Zoe. It makes it seem as though all the bad stuff never happened, like I really can trust her, almost to the point where I wonder if I’ve created all the drama in my head. She’s self-assured and sturdy, and there’s a safety that comes with being in her presence sometimes, like no matter what happens, we’ll be able to handle it together.

I wish we had more days like this.

The rain is aggressive by the time Zoe drops me off at home, angry dark clouds hanging low, pummeling the pavement with water, and I make a mad dash for the front door. It’s quiet in the house when I enter, and I assume both Audrey and Sofia are at work.

After ditching my coat and shoes by the door, I head up to my bedroom, schoolbooks in tow, hoping to get some work done while I’m alone. It doesn’t take long before I’m immersed in my biology textbook, eyebrows creased in concentration.

Out of the blue, my cell phone rings. I dig it out of my backpack, going still when I read the name on the caller ID.

Mason.

My time with Zoe nearly made me forget my conversation with him this morning. A flurry of nerves forms in my belly, and I stare at the phone for another beat before answering it, placing it against my ear.

“Hey,” I say timidly.

“There’s something I think you should know,” he remarks, skipping over the pleasantries. “Meet me outside.”

The call disconnects before I can say another word.

13 | Reveal

Moving to my bedroom window, I peer outside. Beyond the rain-splattered glass, there’s a pair of gleaming headlights parked on the street below, a little ways down from the house. I back away, wondering if Mason saw me.

The abrupt nature of his call paired with the urgency of our conversation at school leaves me with a bad feeling, yet I can’t tamp down the intrigue I feel at the prospect of having a chance to talk to him alone, uninterrupted.

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror, suddenly self-conscious. There’s no time to do anything about my appearance, so I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to detangle it.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I throw on my raincoat and Blundstones again, preparing to head outside. But the door bursts open before I can, and I move out of the way as Sofia enters, her arms laden with grocery bags, droplets of rainwater resting on the shoulders of her woolen coat.

“Help me with these, would you?” she asks, huffing out a breath.