“The night of your accident,” Mason says, not seeming to notice my uneasiness. “I—I was at the party.”

I frown, my fingers inching closer to my door handle. “I thought you didn’t like parties.”

“I don’t.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I went. But I saw you and Zoe get into a fight.”

“Apparently, we fight all the time,” I counter.

He glances at me warily, not seeming to appreciate my defensive attitude. I can’t help it; I’m starting to learn that trusting people blindly isn’t a wise thing to do. “It looked serious. Lots of people saw. And when you left that night, you weren’t alone.”

Panic creeps into my chest again. “How do you know?”

“I saw you leave, Alina,” he tells me. “Your friends followed you out. But you were found alone.”

The second the words leave his mouth, I’m plunged back to being in Dr. Meyer’s office, deep in the throes of complicated visions. Leave me alone, I’d heard myself say, my voice clogged with anger, straining to be heard over a pounding bassline as I stalked to the front door. And then I see the scene from my nightmare again, Damien holding on to me with a viselike grip as Zoe and James block the door.

My hands begin to shake, and I look away from Mason’s prying stare. “Why are you even telling me this? What’s in it for you?”

The atmosphere in the car changes, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him flinch, clearly put off by my accusation.

“You think I’m doing this for me?” His voice is louder now, incredulous.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

He scoffs. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know you, Mason,” I blurt, turning to face him again, and a flicker of hurt dashes across his features. “What am I supposed to think? Who am I supposed to trust?”

Mason’s mouth opens and closes before he presses his lips together firmly.

Feeling agitated, I drag my fingers through my hair. “You tell me we used to be friends, but you won’t tell me what happened.” He looks away. “Maybe you did something to me. Maybe I shouldn’t be friends with you. I mean, I don’t even know what you think of me. Zoe has supposedly been my best friend for years.”

“I didn’t . . .” He trails off then shakes his head, his jaw ticking. “I have nothing to gain by telling you this. What reason would I have to lie?”

I shrug stubbornly, turning to look out the window. The conversation has become tense, and I feel the urge to get out of the car and leave him in the rain, but for some reason I can’t make myself move. This wasn’t what I was expecting when he asked me to meet him.