“We should?” she says tentatively.
“Definitely. I can’t think of anything cooler.”
“I can, but it’s probably a felony.”
This is the second serious revenge joke Sarah’s made, and that must be why the thought crosses my mind that I could tell her about Arthur and me. Our scheme, that is. Bringing her on board would ensure that whatever we do doesn’t hurt her. And selfishly, the idea of doing this with another one of Max’s ex-girlfriendsisthe coolest thing I can think of.
Sighing, I grab my phone and send off a text. “Who was that to?” Sarah asks, noting the new air of annoyance suffocating the room.
“Just a guy,” I say, and decide that’s enough. That will be the last lie I tell her.
A minute later, my phone lights up, Arthur’s reply to myWe need to talktext glowing gray:
Rooftop, 5 a.m.?
Chapter Seventeen
My phone rings at 4:45 a.m. I had an alarm set, so I’m awake, thankfully; I snatch it and flip it to silent before Sarah startles from her eye-mask slumber.Arthur Bianco—Personalstares back up at me, and I pop into the bathroom, shut the door, and whirl around to face myself in the brightly lit mirror.
“Hello, Lilah,” Arthur says.
Him using my first name captures my full attention, and with that one word, it’s just me and his voice, deep and breathy.
“Hello,Arthur. What’s up?”
“Well, I’m on the roof, and I was wondering if you were going to get here in time.”
I look over my shoulder at the shut door. “In time for what? You said five a.m. I was just about to leave.”
“I did,” he replies, entertained by something. “And let me guess… you don’t like being late.”
“Way too easy of a guess,” I say, smoothing the bottom of my washed-out band T-shirt over my jean shorts. During the day, temperatures in Budapest have been flirting with mid-eighty degrees. “How does one get onto a roof, anyway?”
“That’s why I called.” Arthur pauses. “I was thinking we could play a game. You get to the roof by five and you get your surprise.”
Deep inside my chest, underneath bones and barbed wire, my heart perks up. I shove my hand against it and tell it to heel. “Youdo realize that I askedyouto talk, and you’re making this into hide-and-seek?”
“Do you not want to play?”
I know he’s serious. With all the ways we’ve pushed each other, challenged and prodded, he has this one tone of voice that’s never a lie. HisI dare you to try and keep upvoice. It’s… annoying. Not cute. He has to know that I wanted to discuss our plan, so why is he turning this into a joke?
“Fine.” I slide out the bathroom door, then into the hotel hallway. “But let the record show that I didn’t ask for this.”
“Done and done.”
“Are you going to call me back if I hang up on you?”
“Try it and find out.”
I snort. “You thought I wasn’t going to show.”
“It is early.”
In the dark hallway, there’s a neon-lit sign markedplazahanging over one door, the other completely unmarked. Plaza sounds like roof. I shoulder through it as I say, “I’ve been filming you since June. Our sleep schedules are in sync.”
There’s a weird noise, like static or someone choking. “Right,” he says. “Did you find the plaza?”
“If I don’t get any hints, you don’t, either.”
