It’s such a loaded word. Unease creeps into the car.

“Alina, I didn’t tell you this to try to mess with your head,” he says, peering at my face. My throat becomes tight. “I wouldn’t be talking to you right now if I thought it was just some wild conspiracy theory. I may not have the facts to prove it yet, but I’m confident what happened that night is more sinister than you think.”

The way he says the words sends another torrent of shivers down my spine, and nothing in me wants to believe them.

But I do.

It’s already been a while since I left the house, and Sofia told me not to stay out too long, but getting out of the car now and ending the conversation would leave me with too many questions.

“Where was the party?”

Mason frowns. “Iris’s house?”

“Can we go there?”

“You want to go there right now?”

I nod.

If anything, it’ll help to compare it to the party I keep seeing in my memories and decide whether what I’ve seen is fact or fiction. To my surprise, Mason doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he sighs, turns the key in the ignition, and shifts the car into Drive, pulling away from the curb.

The lights of my house disappear in the side mirror, and the windshield wipers are on a continuous loop, doing their best to keep the glass visible. A shudder racks my body again, and Mason peers at me out of the corner of his eye. Reaching forward, he turns up the heat, and I stretch my cold fingers out toward the air vents.

“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks warm. Even after our argument, he’s showing me kindness. I can’t figure out how to read him.

We leave my neighborhood, and it’s odd to be sitting in a car with someone I don’t know anything about. He’s focused on the road, and I wonder if he feels as awkward as I do.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask.

He laughs shortly, turning a corner, and I watch the streetlights pass over his features. “What kind of question is that? Am I supposed to be mean to you?”

“We’re not friends anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a horrible human being.”

“So it’s just sympathy.”

Mason turns to me, studying my expression and looking irritated. “What answer are you looking for, Alina?” Even though the words are spoken with an undertone of frustration, I feel a jolt run down my spine at the sound of my name.

“One that actually explains something,” I push. “Like why we drifted apart. I’m trying to understand you.”

“You’re not going to give that up, are you?”

I give him a flat look.