Knowing You (Cursed 2)

My sluggish brain fights to remember if I met him. But I haven't met any guy since I arrived, and the cook doesn't count. "How do you know who I am?"

Although I can't see his face, I can tell his hair is light; it looks almost silver in the moonlight. And the way the shadows play with the angles and curves of his face, it's like he was chiseled from stone. Maybe he's a vampire.

A giggle bursts from my lips.

"What's so funny?"

"You're alive, right?"

"And you've been hanging with Ashton tonight."

"How do you know?" I try to sound defensive, but end up sounding impressed that he figured it out.

"Umm ... you're holding a giant tub of ice cream, and are about to eat it with a mixing spoon. Can that even fit in your mouth? Wait. I want to see you try."

I look down at the tub that's now dripping with condensation, soaking into my tank top. I rest it on the umbrella table, balancing the spoon across the top. "I was hungry."

"Clearly."

Smartass.

"How do you know who I am?" I ask again. My thoughts keep jumping all over the place, but ... in slow motion.

He pushes a polished black shoe into the ground, rocking the hammock. He's holding a glass of something in one hand, while the other is draped over his head like he was out here contemplating the meaning of life.

I sigh dramatically when he doesn't answer. I'm about to lift the ice cream again and go back inside, not putting up with his pompous shit.

"I think the real question is, why are you here?"

I look up, leaving the ice cream on the table. "What?"

"You don't exactly have the admission criteria. Your parents aren't notable. No one would even know who you are, or care, if you were on the cover of a tabloid. Maybe you're smart enough, but that's never why they admit new students. Someone pulled some major strings to get you in here. Why?"

"I'm here on scholarship," I snap back, providing Niall's explanation.

"They don't grant scholarships at Blackwood."

I'm about to retort with some smartass remark when his answer sinks in. "They don't?"

"No, they don't. They're very selective. And you don't fit the Blackwood profile. No one here has a criminal record, not even if they were arrested, and most were. Their parents are powerful enough to get it expunged."

He's playing with me, and it's starting to annoy the hell out of me. I huff, fed up. "Who are you? And how do you know so much about me?"

"It's why I'm here," he says, his voice almost aloof. "I know too much."

Then it hits me. "What are you, a hacker?"

He chuckles, the moonlight glinting off straight, white teeth. But he doesn't answer.

"Are you at least going to tell me your name, or do you prefer to annoy the fuck out of me all night?"

"Oh, I like you," he says, still smiling. "You bite."

I roll my eyes. "Really?"

"I'm Brendan."

And now that I know, there isn't a reason to stay out here. I lift the tub of ice cream, the spoon falling to the ground. I bend to pick it up just as deep voices cut through the hedges. I straighten, uncertain what to do.