Ominous (Private 13)

oked me in the eye. “You, Reed, won’t be getting in. Not after all the trouble you’ve caused this year.”

My heart dropped and my fingers curled into fists atop the table.

“In fact, none of you will be in,” Missy said, making sure to look each of the others directly in the eye. “The board asked me for a list of the girls who were the most disruptive influences during all that mess with Cheyenne and Sabine last semester, and I was more than happy to provide it.”

“Missy,” Lorna said from the far end of the table, “you didn’t.”

Missy’s cruel eyes slid over to her former best friend. “You chose your side. Now I’ve chosen mine.” Her mouth twisted into a wide grin. “Ta, ladies!” she said, twiddling her fingers at us. Then she turned on her heel and strode off. Constance shot me an uncertain look, ducked her head, and followed, with London behind her.

“This. Cannot. Be happening,” Amberly said loudly.

I looked across the table at Noelle, whose face was so red I thought she might start to melt. Then suddenly Sawyer was there, looking sheepish with his hands in the pockets of his slim-cut gray cords. He wore a white shirt open over a black band T-shirt.

“Hey,” he said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“Is it true?” I said, looking up at him through my lashes.

Sawyer gritted his teeth. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I would’ve told you, but I only found out this morning.”

“Why?” Noelle asked. “Why would your father go to them instead of my dad?”

Sawyer turned a little green, and I could tell that whatever he had to say next, he was afraid of saying it.

“They came to him,” he said. “And when they did, my dad called your father to check … to make sure he didn’t want to try to outbid them or something. See, Dad didn’t want Billings back at all, but apparently the school needs the money so … I guess he figured whoever would donate the most could control the project.”

“He told you this?” Tiffany asked.

“No. I overheard him this morning.” He turned to Noelle. “On the phone with your dad.”

“And?” Noelle and I said at the same time.

Sawyer closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his strength. “He said no. He said he didn’t want to have anything more to do with Billings, and he didn’t want his girls anywhere near it either.”

My face burned and my eyes met Noelle’s across the table.

“His girls? WTF?” Portia said. “Have you got some secret sister we don’t know about, Noelle?”

The other girls laughed halfheartedly, but I felt the orange juice traveling back up my throat. This—all of it—was very not good.

“Obviously, Sawyer misheard,” Noelle said through her teeth, staring me down. “And don’t worry, ladies,” she added, lifting her hair over her shoulders. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. There’s no way I’m leaving Billings in the hands of a loser like Missy Thurber.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get us passes off campus,” Josh said. He dimmed the lights to a romantic glow and sat down across from me at the small pedestal table he’d placed in the center of the art cemetery. Arranged on its small wooden surface were boxes of steaming Thai food, everything from lemongrass chicken to coconut rice to salmon with mango sauce. “After everything that’s gone on in the last year, I guess Hathaway’s finally cracking down.”

I smirked as I reached for the chopsticks. “Or he just hates both of us.”

“That too,” Josh conceded. He lifted his wineglass full of sparkling champagne. “Still, I think I did pretty well.”

I picked up my glass and clinked it with his. “I’ll second that.”

We looked into each other’s eyes as we sipped our faux champagne, and I felt a twist of anticipation. When it came down to it, the art cemetery was the best place we could possibly be. Because all I could think about was kissing him, and kissing him in a way that probably couldn’t be done in a public forum.

“You want to forget the food?” Josh asked suddenly.

I dropped my glass on the table with a clang. “Good plan.”

We both stood up and collided with each other, his lips on mine before I could even catch my breath. He cupped my face with both his hands and tripped us sideways into the old-fashioned love seat pressed up against the wall. My feet hit a set of gilt-framed paintings as I fell on top of Josh, knocking the whole stack over with a terrific clatter, but neither of us even paused. I fumbled my hand up under Josh’s sweater and was met with the rough fabric of his chambray shirt.

I pulled away, my lips buzzing. “Can you?”