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Isaac’s eyebrows lowered. “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”
Emily shrugged. “I, uh, I know the kid whose dad founded the burn clinic.”
“You know David Ackard’s son?”
“He goes to my school.”
Isaac nodded. “Right. Rosewood Day.”
“I’m on partial scholarship,” Emily said quickly. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was one of the privileged, spoiled rich kids.
“You must be really smart,” Isaac said.
Emily ducked her head. “Nah.”
A waitress passed by, balancing multiple plates of General Tso’s Chicken. “My dad is catering a Rosewood Day fundraiser on Saturday. It’s at some ten-bedroom farmhouse.”
“Oh yeah?” Emily’s stomach burbled. Isaac was obviously talking about the event at Spencer’s house—there’d been an announcement about the fund-raiser that morning in homeroom. Nearly every parent attended school fund-raisers, and most students went too, as no one could resist an opportunity to dress up and sneak glasses of champagne while their parents weren’t watching.
“So will I see you there?” Isaac’s face lit up.
Emily pressed the tines of her fork into her palm. If she went, people were bound to ask questions about why they were together. But if she didn’t go and Isaac asked around about her, someone might tell him the truth about her past. Like Noel Kahn or Mike Montgomery, or maybe even Ben, Emily’s old boyfriend. Maybe New A would be there, too.
“I guess you will see me there,” she decided.
“Great.” Isaac smiled. “I’ll be the one in the caterer’s tuxedo.”
Emily blushed. “Maybe you can serve me personally,” she flirted.
“Done,” Isaac said. He squeezed her hand, and Emily’s heart did a somersault.
Suddenly, Isaac looked beyond Emily’s head, smiling at something behind her. When Emily swiveled around, her heart dropped to her knees. She blinked several times, hoping the girl standing there was just a mirage.
“Hey, Emily.” Maya St. Germain pushed a curly lock of hair out of her tiger yellow eyes. She was wearing a heavy white sweater, a denim skirt, and white cable-knit tights. Her eyes kept ping-ponging back and forth from Emily to Isaac, trying to figure out what they were doing together.
Emily pulled her hand away from Isaac’s. “Isaac,” she croaked, “this is Maya. We go to school together.”
Isaac stood up halfway, offering his hand. “Hi. I’m Emily’s date.”
Maya widened her eyes and took a step back, as if Isaac had just said that he was made of cow manure. “Right,” she joked. “Her date. Good one.”
Isaac’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’m…sorry?”
Maya’s forehead furrowed. And then time seemed to slow down. Emily saw the precise moment when the realization rolled over Maya’s face—it wasn’t a joke. A slow, amused smile grew across her lips. You’re on an actual date with him. Maya’s eyes gleamed nastily. And you haven’t told him what you are, just like you didn’t tell Toby Cavanaugh. Emily realized how angry Maya must be with her—Emily had jerked Maya around all autumn, cheated on her with Trista, a girl she’d met in Iowa, accused Maya of being A, and hadn’t said a word to her for months. Here was Maya’s big chance to get Emily back for all of that.
As Maya opened her mouth to speak, Emily leapt up, ripped her jacket off the back of her chair, grabbed her purse, and began weaving around the tables toward the door. There was no point being here when Maya told Isaac. She didn’t want to see the disappointment—and most certainly disgust—on Isaac’s face.
The freezing air whipped around her. When she reached her car, she leaned over the hood, trying to regain her balance. She didn’t dare look back inside the restaurant. It would be best if she just got in the car, drove away, and never came to this shopping village again.
Wind swirled around the desolate parking lot. A big streetlight above Emily’s head flickered and swayed. Then something rustled behind a massive Cadillac Escalade. Two spots down Emily stood on her tiptoes. Was that a shadow? Was someone there? She rifled for her car keys, but they were lost in the depths of her purse.
Her cell phone beeped, and Emily let out a muffled scream. She fumbled for it in her pocket, her hands trembling. One new text message. She stabbed at her keypad, opening it up.
Hi Em—Don’t you just hate it when your ex shows up and ruins your romantic night? I wonder how she knew where to find you…. Let this be a warning. Talk, and your past will be the least of your problems.
—A
Emily ran her hands over her hair. It made perfect sense—A had sent Maya a text that she was at the restaurant, and Maya, wanting revenge, had taken the bait. Or, even worse, maybe Maya was New A.
“Emily?”
She whirled around, her heart racing. Isaac stood behind her. He wasn’t wearing his coat, and his cheeks flared red from the cold. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.
Emily stared at the fluorescent lines that demarcated the parking spaces, unable to meet his eyes. “I-I thought it would be better if I left.”
“Why?”
She paused. Isaac didn’t sound angry. He sounded…confused. She glanced through the windows of the restaurant, watching as the waitresses walked up and down the rows of tables. Was it possible Maya hadn’t said anything?
“I’m sorry about what I said in there,” Isaac went on, shivering. “That I was your date. I didn’t mean to define tonight like that.”
