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pulled Daniel closer and turned his peck into a long, deep kiss. By the time she was done, Daniel was
blushing and Thomas looked stunned. As Ariana turned and walked with Noelle toward the exit, she couldn't
help smiling. Maybe Thomas was right. Maybe she was a little naughty after all.
CARELESS
***A razor-thin sliver of dusk glowed outside Ariana's window, the last remnant of day before darkness
enveloped the campus. She checked her watch. It was exactly 6 p.m. on Tuesday. She had one hour to put her
paper in Mr. Holmes's mailbox and catch a cab to the train station.
As she leaned over her desk and clicked the print command on her laptop, her eyes fell on the framed photo
perched on her desk, the one next to the picture of her and her mom. It was the black-and-white shot Daniel
had taken of her. Ariana was wrapped in a fluffy, oversize beach towel and stretched out on a lounge chair,
blowing a kiss to the camera. The girl in that picture looked happy. In love with her boyfriend. Normal.
She could be that girl again. She wanted to be. Thomas might be sexy and exciting, but Daniel was familiar.
She knew everything about him. No surprises. For better or worse, he was the guy for her. The guy who could
give her everything she wanted. Everything her mother wanted. Thomas was just a blip. She pulled her cell
phone from her Kate Spade tote, scrolled through her text messages, and read Thomas's one last time. Then
she deleted it. As soon as the text was gone, she felt better. Lighter, somehow. She'd made her decision.
She snatched her paper from the printer tray, stapled it hastily together, and stuffed it in her bag. Winding a
soft aqua scarf around her neck, she glanced one last time at the photographs on her desk. She'd made the
right decision. The decision her mom would approve of. She slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped out
of the room without looking back.
A lacy curtain of snow draped over her the moment she stepped outside Billings House. As she cut across the
deserted grounds, the snow seemed to be falling heavier, thicker around her than it had earlier in the day. Hell
Hall loomed just ahead, dark and imposing against the snowy sky. She took the stairs two at a time, and
pushed through the doorway.
The lights had already been turned off. The sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall as she hurried in the
dark to the faculty mail-room. She slid her hands along the wall and paused when she reached the last door.
She strained to hear the sound of a professor's laugh, or a muffled conversation. Nothing but thick silence
buzzing loudly in her ears.
She leaned against the heavy, stubborn door, nudging it with her hip to force it open. A dusty Tiffany lamp
glowed on a table in the far corner of the room. Rows of small wooden cubbies stretched along one wall, and
