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I ignore the voice. Lots of people call my name, hoping I’ll stop and divulge some secret about Bennett.
“Grace? Hey?” A hand latches onto my arm and I’m forced to stop.
“You’re awfully pushy, aren’t you?” I sneer at the strawberry blond in front of me.
She wrinkles her nose and her freckles dance across it. “I’m Bennett’s sister. I wanted to talk to you.”
Bennett’s sister?
My eyes widen in surprise. “Oh.”
“Is there somewhere we could talk more privately?” She swirls her finger through the air, and sure enough there are several students, and even a professor, loitering as they try to eavesdrop on our conversation.
“Uh … there’s a coffee shop around the corner.”
She shakes her head. “Not private enough.”
“My dorm?” I suggest half-heartedly.
She brightens at this. “Perfect.”
I’m not too thrilled about this, but I lead her in the direction of my dorm.
“How did you find me?”
She shrugs. “I’m a journalist. It’s what I do.”
“Find people?”
She laughs. “Yes, it’s part of the job. I knew if I waited around campus long enough I’d eventually spot you.”
“So …” I pause. “Bennett didn’t put you up to this?”
She shakes her head adamantly. “God no. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.”
“Why are you here?”
“We’ll discuss inside,” she says as we start up the stairs to the building.
My heart races as I wonder what she has to say. I want to forgive Bennett so bad, to believe this isn’t real, but the proof … I can’t deny that, and I can’t be with someone that would do something like that.
I feel like it takes forever to finally reach my room and when we do, she promptly closes the door behind us.
“First, I feel like I should introduce myself. I’m Sabrina.” She holds out her hand for me to shake.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, “but horrible circumstances.”
She winces. “Yes, horrible.” She pulls out my desk chair and takes a seat without my offering. I end up sitting on the end of my bed, facing her.
“You said you’re a journalist. You’re not here for an interview, are you?” I ask hesitantly.
Her eyes—the same unique hazel color as Bennett’s—widen in surprise. “Absolutely not.”
“Then why are you here?” I echo my question from earlier.
“Because, I think you should know that Bennett didn’t do this.”
I try not to roll my eyes, but it’s a serious effort. “But the proof—”
