Page 84 of Pretty Threats

I glance around. There are a few people strolling through the park, but it’s mostly empty. Her arrival is definitely not coincidental. I pack up and as I’m trying to distance myself, one of my feet lands on the grass and I stumble. Fortunately, I manage not to fall completely.

“Hi, Raine. I was hoping you were still here.”

Still here? How the hell did she know?

My confused expression must register because she says, “This was always a popular spot with the St. Seb’s kids and I recognized it in your post.”

“My post?” I say blankly and then look at my phone. Oh, Jesus, one of the posts I scheduled for next week, accidentally published in real time. For fuck’s sake.

“I’m going, actually,” I say. “But if you want to talk, you can walk with me.”

“I will, thanks.” Alicia waits.

Once I’ve got my tote and backpack over my shoulders, we start down the path.

“Well?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t sound hostile. I’m annoyed she tracked me down and inserted herself into my day, rather than waiting for me to text her back. It’s a move straight out of Killian’s playbook.

“I’m in trouble.” Her tone is matter of fact. “I need money.” No trace of embarrassment in her words or expression.

My pace slows to a stop at the corner. I balance on the curb just above the crosswalk, waiting for a walk signal.

I glance at her face. “Why tell me?”

Her makeup is heavy, but fine lines are still visible around her eyes. If she doesn’t change the ways she’s living, she’ll look old before her time.

“I want you to loan me money.” Her carefully neutral expression hardens. “You owe me that.”

My brows crinkle in confusion. “I do?” My slightly louder voice is skeptical.

“Green,” she says, nodding at the light.

We cross the street in silence.

“You ruined my life. Or have you forgotten?”

My jaw slackens, and I tilt my head. Has Alicia really figured out that Killian killed her dad because of me? In her place, I would never have come to that conclusion. He was a high school kid. Not exactly someone you’d expect to be able to plan and execute the perfect murder without getting caught.

Making sure my tone sounds light and perplexed, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“You implied something awful happened to you at my house on the night you came over. That started school gossip, you know? That kind of accusation could’ve caused my father to lose his medical license. He would’ve been humiliated.” Her voice rises with righteous indignation. “He had to protect his family. Dad didn’t realize my mom hadn’t kept up with the life insurance payments. After a year, there wasn’t enough money for tuition or the house.” Her mouth sets in a thin, angry line.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“You could acknowledge what you did.”

My pace slows until we’re standing still in the shadow of a glossy skyscraper. “Are you really blaming me? Instead of your father?”

“Oh, my God. Are you still trying to claim you were drugged? To me? I was there, remember?”

“I was comatose for hours.”

“Says who?”

That causes me to almost name Killian, but I stop myself in time. She doesn’t know the details of what happened after I escaped her house, and I’m not going to fill in the blanks.

When I speak, my voice is cold and dismissive. “I say so.”

After turning away from her, I stalk off in the direction of Dad’s car. Alicia’s boots snap against the pavement as she rushes to keep up with me.

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