Brendan reads the crumpled note. "This is why you needed to know if I'm trustworthy?"
"It's someone who goes to the school. Who knows who I am. And they had access to my bag at Lily's. There aren't a lot of people to choose from. Every one of them is someone who is supposed to be a friend."
"The friend's comment was just to keep you quiet, I'm sure of it."
"Probably."
"It doesn't mean it's one of us. All this person needs is access to your room, which means they have campus clearance. That could include teachers, administration, or--"
"Life advisors," I mutter. Mr. Garner was essentially hired to look after me, and he has connections with the Harrisons. Maybe he's trying to warn me. But I quickly dismiss the thought, he's not the dramatic type ... I think. "So it could be anyone."
"I think we should focus on why, instead of who anyway." He meets my eye. "So don't tell anyone else."
"I think Joey may know where the picture came from. He told me that he found others of us together as kids, before we were old enough to remember. He may know who else is in this picture, or at least where it was taken."
"Don't tell him about the messages. I'll make a copy of the photo so he doesn't see the back. I think we need to keep that between us."
"Why?"
"Instinct," he says like that's a valid reason.
"You always listen to your gut?" I taunt.
"Pretty much," he admits without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm very perceptive, and it usually keeps me out of trouble. It's my vices that tend to bring me down."
"What? Hacking, stalking and sleeping around?"
He laughs half-heartedly. "The third one is close enough to the truth. My perception is skewed when it comes to women I care about. I have a hard time cuing in on her intent until it's too late. It's like I'm blind to her faults until she's out to ruin me. So now, I don't do relationships. Keep it purely sexual, no emotions. That way I don't get screwed over, pun intended." He smirks flirtatiously.
I roll my eyes. "Explains the trust issues."
"Told you we're a lot alike. And it turns out, we have more in common than I originally thought." He pours himself another drink. "I'm going to tell you something that no one else knows. And not because I'm ashamed, but because it's none of anyone's fucking business, and I've been able to keep it to myself while at Blackwood because no one asks."
He takes a long draw from his glass. "I grew up on Nantucket. My family owned a small bookstore. We weren't wealthy, not like the people who came in on their yachts every summer. Or like the students at Blackwood. Niall arranged for my admittance at the beginning last school year, just like he did for you. He won't tell me who's funding it, claiming it's a scholarship program. Something he's arranged with the school. When he presents candidates with potential, they accept them under certain conditions. It's good PR for them to boast how they help students from all backgrounds to become top scholars, and Niall gets to change lives. But I know it's bullshit. They're receiving money for tuition. I've seen their financial records."
"But you don't know from where? Do you think it's Niall?"
"Blackwood tuition for three of us, then Printz-Lee and NYU on top of that? I doubt it. I considered that maybe his firm orchestrated some sort of fund, because we're definitely on their pro-bono client list. But I haven't found anything in their records."
"I never would have guessed that you didn't come from money. You act like you belong here, among the privileged."
"I do," he says with a smirk. "They're not any better or worse than us. In fact, I guarantee I have a better relationship with my grandmother than most of them do with their parents. Money has nothing to do with how I present myself. I grew up middle-class, exposed to the upper echelon. I caddied on the island. Overheard a lot. Learned more. Manipulated and seduced the right people to get what I wanted, until I got caught. And it wasn't even a billionaire's daughter. It was with the damn principal's trophy wife. So naive."
"You had feelings for her?"
He shrugs. "Lesson learned. But always the hard way."
I grin, familiar with the sentiment. "That's the only way to learn apparently."
Brendan smiles before focusing on the picture again. "So our mothers were friends. But how did they know the Harrisons?"
"I don't know why my mother was even on Nantucket," I say, overwhelmed by how much I don't know about my own mother. "There's no way she could've afforded it."
"Would she tell you if you asked her?"
"I can try. But if I want her to tell me the truth, it'll have to be in person. She can be really ... sensitive when I bring up anything to do with my father. And I think she was pregnant or soon would be, when this was taken."
"My mother was pregnant with me by about three months or so in this picture." His eyes widen. "Holy shit. Every woman in this picture is pregnant except for one, unless she is and just isn't showing."