Last Christmas (Private 0.60)

soaked, her nose was running, and her ears felt as if they were about to break off.

"That wasn't so bad." Thomas's eyes looked gray against the eerie, snowy sky. The dark clouds above had a

yellowish tinge, making it impossible to tell that it was just past noon.

Ariana simply stared him down, thinking about Noelle, all cozy in New York, probably eating mahi-mahi at

Fred's at Barneys with her parents, and the Ryans sitting together in front of a roaring fireplace in Vermont.

All things she could be doing we

re she not stuck in this blizzard. She pushed her matted hair behind her

shoulders. "Let's just get inside."

Thomas reached for the door and Ariana saw a dark figure move out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly

Thomas yanked her inside. Together they ducked below the window in the Ketlar front door and Ariana held

her breath.

"Who the hell is that?" Thomas whispered. "No one's staying on this side of campus."

Ariana inched up and, ignoring Thomas's whispered pleas to stay

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down, peeked out the window. Atari, lithe figure, hunched against the wind moved slowly by, following the

general route of the cobblestone pathway that was covered by the snow. Jet black hair whipped wildly in the

wind.

"It's just Isobel," Ariana whispered, dropping down again. "I don't think she saw us."

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. "What the hell is she doing back here?"

"She's here for a week while her parents are on vacation."

"Isobel Bautista couldn't figure out another vacation plan?" Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like an

excuse to me."

Ariana shrugged and tried to slow her breathing. Her lungs felt like they were filled with shards of glass. "We

have to be more careful. If the wrong stay-behind student catches us, we're screwed."

"I know." Thomas stood and grabbed Ariana's hands to pull her up. "I can't get caught. My parents will

disinherit me."

"Yeah. Mine too," Ariana said dryly. She pressed her hands on either side of her nose in an attempt to warm

it. It didn't work.

"No. Seriously." Thomas's voice echoed in the empty Ketlar lobby. "One more strike, and I'm cut out of the

will. Everything goes to Blake."