Isaac emerged into the light. He wore a white caterer’s suit and black shoes—Emily supposed his father was making him work tonight, now that he didn’t have a date. She shrank back, her heart beating hard.
“I thought I saw you come up here,” he said.
Emily glanced at the ledger again—it was hard to switch gears, from Jason to Isaac. She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. Everything they’d said to each other the night before whooshed through her head, way too present.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be up here,” Isaac said. “My dad said this hall is for employees only.”
“I was just leaving,” Emily mumbled, starting for the door.
“Wait.” Isaac perched on the arm of the dusty leather couch. A few quiet seconds passed. He sighed. “The picture you told me about, the one with your face cut out? I found it last night. In the junk drawer in the kitchen. And…and I confronted my mom. She lost it.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open; she could barely believe her ears. Isaac leapt from the arm of the couch and knelt by Emily’s side. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m a jerk—and now I’ve probably lost you. Can you ever forgive me?”
Emily bit the inside of her cheek. She knew she should feel good right now—or at least justified—but instead, she felt even worse. It would be so easy to tell Isaac it was fine. They were fine. But what he’d done yesterday stung. He hadn’t even considered believing her. He’d immediately jumped to conclusions, certain she was lying.
She moved away from him, bent down, and picked up the ledger. The cover of the book was thickly coated with dust and soot. “I might forgive you someday,” she said, “but not today.”
“W-what?” Isaac cried.
Emily shoved the book under her arm, biting back tears. Even though she hated telling Isaac something that would hurt him, she knew it was the right thing to do. “I have to go,” she blurted out.
She ran down the stairs as fast as she could. At the landing, she heard a familiar giggle from the other side of the room. She sucked in her stomach, looking nervously around. The crowd shifted, and the laugh dissipated. The only person Emily recognized across the ballroom was Maya. She was standing against the wall, holding a martini, and staring fixedly at Emily, a whisper of a smile across her wide, glossy lips.
27 DÉJÀ VU…REVEALED
Hanna skidded across the slippery marble floor, coming to a stop. This hotel was a maze, and somehow, she’d managed to retrace her steps and was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling tapestry of Napoleon yet again. She looked right and left, searching for Mike. The crowd of partiers was so thick, she didn’t see him anywhere.
She passed the throne room and heard a familiar voice. Inside was Noel Kahn, draped over the large, velvet throne, his shoulders shaking with laughter. There was an upside-down champagne bucket on his head, a makeshift crown.
Hanna groaned. It was unbelievable what Noel could get away with at Rosewood parties, just because his parents bankrolled the town.
She marched up to him and poked his arm. Noel turned and brightened. “Hanna!” He smelled as if he’d drunk a whole bathtub of tequila.
“Where’s Mike?”
Noel threw his legs over the chair. His pant legs rose slightly, revealing blue-and-red argyle socks. “Don’t know. But I should kiss you.”
Ugh. “Why?”
“Because,” he slurred. “You won me five hundred bucks.”
She stepped back. “Excuse me?”
Noel brought his cocktail, a reddish drink that looked a lot like Red Bull and vodka, to his lips. Liquid dribbled down his shirt and pooled on the seat of the chair. A few Quaker school girls sitting on paisley-upholstered footstools nudged one another, giggling. How could they think Noel was hot? If this were really Versailles, Noel wouldn’t be the Louis XIV. He’d be the French version of the village idiot.
“The whole lax team had a bet going to see who Mike could get to take him to the prom,” Noel explained. “You or your hottie stepsister. We made the bet after you started throwing yourselves at him. I’m going to give Mike half my winnings for being such a good sport.”
Hanna ran her hands along the piece of her Time Capsule flag, which she’d tied to the chain of her Chanel purse. She felt the color drain from her face.
Noel nudged his head toward the door. “If you don’t believe me, ask Mike yourself.”
Hanna turned. Mike was leaning against one of the Grecian-style columns, smiling at a girl from Tate Prep. Hanna let out a low growl and made a beeline to him. When Mike saw her, he grinned sheepishly.
“Your teammates bet on us?” Hanna screeched. The Tate girl quickly skittered away.
Mike sipped his wine, shrugging. “It’s no different than what you girls were doing. Except the other guys on the lax team were playing for money. What were you playing for? Tampons?”
Hanna ran her hand over her forehead. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Mike was supposed to be vulnerable and weak, a victim. And all along, he’d known they’d been competing. All along, he’d been playing her.
She sighed, weary. “So I guess our prom date is off?”
Mike looked surprised. “I don’t want it to be.”
Hanna searched his face. “Really?” Mike shook his head. “So then…you don’t care that you were just some…bet?”
Mike glanced at her bashfully, then looked away. “Not if you don’t.”
Hanna tried her best to hide her smile—and her relief. She nudged him hard in the ribs. “Well, you’d better give me half your winnings.”
“And you’d better give me half your…” Mike stopped, making a face. “Never mind. I don’t need half your tampons. We’ll use the winnings for a bottle of Cristal for the prom, how’s that?” And then, he brightened even more. “And for a motel room.”
“A motel?” Hanna glared at him. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“Honey, with me, you won’t care where we’re at,” Mike said in the slimiest voice Hanna had ever heard. She stifled a groan, leaning into him. He leaned into her too, until their foreheads touched. “Honestly?” Mike whispered, his voice softening and becoming almost tender. “I always liked you better.”
Hanna’s insides turned over. Giddy shivers scampered up her back. Their faces were very close, with only a small column of air hanging between them. Then Mike reached forward and pushed the hair out of Hanna’s eyes. Hanna giggled nervously. Their lips met. Mike’s mouth was warm, and he tasted like red wine. Tingles shot from Hanna’s head to all ten toes.
“Yeah!” Noel Kahn bellowed from across the room, nearly tumbling off the throne. Hanna and Mike shot apart. Mike pumped his fist, his blazer sliding down his arm. He was still wearing his yellow rubber Rosewood Day lacrosse bracelet. Hanna sighed, resigned. There were all kinds of queer things she’d have to get used to, now that she was dating a lacrosse boy.
There was a loud crunch of static, and a fast, upbeat song blared over the loudspeakers. Hanna peeked into the ballroom. The orchestra section had vanished, and there was a DJ booth in its place. The DJ was dressed up in a long, Louis XIV–style curly wig, pantaloons, and a long robe. “Shall we?” Mike asked, offering his hand.
Hanna stood up and followed him. Across the ballroom, Naomi, Riley, and Kate were lined up on a chaise, watching. Naomi looked annoyed, but Kate and Riley had little smiles on their faces, almost as if they were happy for Hanna. After a moment, Hanna shot Kate a small smile back. Who knew, maybe Kate really did want to be friends. Maybe Hanna could let bygones be bygones too.