Last Christmas (Private 0.60)

Out... two ... three ...

In ... two ...three ...

Out... two ...three ...

Just then, the waitress rushed over with napkins. "Are you okay, hon?"

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"Fine. Thanks," Ariana lied. "I just remembered I have someplace to be." She had to get out of the diner.

Now. Any second Daniel was going to return from the bathroom and catch her in the middle of this panic

attack. She couldn't have that. She had to go. Ariana grabbed her coat and stumbled into the street. She

gulped the winter air as if she were fighting to keep her head above water. As if she were about to get pulled

beneath the surface again.

Her world was starting to crumble. She could feel it. Everything she'd worked so hard to keep, everything she

deserved, was slipping from her grasp. And she didn't know how to hold on any tighter.

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THE TRUTH

***Ariana waited patiently in the dark of Thomas's room until he returned. After thinking for hours about

what had happened at the diner, mulling it over and twisting it around, her brain had finally started to clear.

Sergei was not her fault. That girl was responsible. She was there. She could have stopped Ariana. Could have

told her Sergei was innocent. She was the one with Sergei's blood on her hands. Plus, Sergei had known

about her and Thomas. Would always have been a threat. But those realizations didn't solve all of Ariana's

problems.

"Who is she?" she asked quietly when he opened the door. Pale light from the hallway leaked across the floor,

illuminating tiny shards of jagged glass embedded in the floor planks. The broken Captain Morgan's bottle

still sat on Thomas's desk. Reminding her.

"What the-" Thomas flipped the light switch on the wall and whirled around. He collapsed against the door

when he saw Ariana sitting cross-legged on his bed, still wearing her coat and scarf. "Jesus,

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Ariana. You scared the crap out of me." He dropped his athletic bag and basketball next to the door, looking

relieved. "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first. Who is she?" she repeated evenly, staring him down. Despite the fact that Ketlar was

heated again, a slick cold crept over her skin.