Burned (Pretty Little Liars #12)
Page 18“He’s not A,” Aria had urged. “It wasn’t even like his relationship with Tabitha was recent.”
“Yeah, but you said that he liked her more than she liked him,” Hanna reminded her. “Maybe he thought she was his true love or something. Maybe he’s one of those crazy guys who is just dying to get revenge on someone.”
“You don’t even know him,” Aria had said defensively.
“Yeah, but neither do you,” Hanna retorted.
Now, she cleared her throat and looked at Noel. “I just feel like I need to help the guy out. It’s fun to play matchmaker.”
Noel took a sip from the mug of coffee sitting next to him. “Just as long as you don’t play matchmaker and match him with you. You might be leading him on and not even know it.”
The bacon sizzled loudly. “You don’t trust me?” Aria asked.
“Of course I do,” Noel said quickly. “It’s just … I thought this cruise would be different. I didn’t think this Eco Hunt of yours would take up so much time.”
Aria pointed her spatula at him. “You’re the one who didn’t want to do the Eco Hunt with me. You’re the one who insisted on surfing. You knew I couldn’t do it with you. You know I can’t swim very well. But you did it anyway.”
“You said I could!”
“And I meant it,” Aria said. “I think it’s awesome that you’re having so much fun. But don’t guilt me because I’m having fun.”
Noel’s eyes widened. “Fine. I won’t say anything. I won’t bother you at all.”
“Good,” Aria answered, hardening.
She turned back to the bacon. Noel stirred his mix. His movements became so forceful and impassioned that all of the excess flour rose up in a cloud and covered his face in a fine white mist. He blinked hard, looking like a mime.
Aria couldn’t help but laugh. After a moment, Noel laughed, too. He shook his head and gently knocked her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Aria said, grabbing a paper towel and wiping the flour off his face. “I don’t want to fight. I want us to have fun. But you shouldn’t be jealous about Graham, okay? I love you.”
Aria’s mouth fell open. Seriously? There had been plenty of times she’d felt inferior around Noel—he was so wealthy, good-looking, and popular that sometimes she still felt like kooky sixth-grade Aria, Ali’s dorky sidekick. But this was the first time he’d ever told her he didn’t feel good enough for her.
“Noel …” She touched his arm. “You’re being ridiculous. I promise.”
“Okay,” Noel said after a moment. “It’s just that I really wanted to take a walk today so I could give you this.”
He brushed off the flour from his hands and pulled out a gold necklace from his pocket. A pendant spun slowly on a chain. It was tarnished and a little battered, perhaps antique, with an intricate, swirled design on the front.
The locket looked vaguely familiar. “Did you get this at one of those expensive jewelry shops in Old San Juan?” she asked.
Noel shook his head. “I actually found it on the beach at our surf spot in Puerto Rico yesterday. I almost stepped on it. It’s like it was meant to be mine—or yours.”
“It’s like a sunken treasure,” Aria whispered, letting Noel hook it around her neck. She peered down at it. There was an initial on the front—an I? A J? It was impossible to tell, as the letter was almost worn away. The necklace had had a whole life before her, a whole story she’d never know about.
“I’ll wear it always,” she told Noel, and wrapped her arms around him, not caring that she was getting flour all over herself. And then, as easy as that, everything felt perfect again.
An hour later, Aria and Graham stood on the green of the ship’s mini-golf course. Technically, they were supposed to be discussing the next clue for the Eco Scavenger Hunt—it involved figuring out which part of the ship was constructed with the highest percentage of recycled materials—but their gaze was on a girl bent over a tee at Hole 5 instead. It was Tori. She was wearing a long peasant skirt, a ribbed blue top, sandals that had little jewels on each strap, and a silver ankle bracelet, which struck Aria as both bohemian and Shakespearian. Tori swung her club and gently tapped the blue golf ball toward a clown’s open mouth, but it hit the rail and rolled back down the ramp.
“So I’ve asked around, and I found out Tori doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Aria whispered in Graham’s ear. “You’re totally in.”
Graham’s cheeks reddened. “You asked about her?”
“How else were we going to find out anything?” Aria grabbed a club from the rack. “Now c’mon. Let’s go to the hole right behind them. Then I want you to compliment her on her putting skills.”
“Are you serious?” Graham snickered. “She’s missed getting the ball through the clown’s mouth like six times.”
Aria glared at him. “Don’t you know anything? When it comes to flirting, you lie! You say whatever it takes to make girls feel amazing and special!” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re hopeless!”
“I bet you’re wondering how I ever had a girlfriend, huh?” Graham teased.
She walked to the hole next to the one Tori was playing. A small windmill spun creakily. The goal was to hit the ball through a tiny gap at the bottom. As she handed Graham the putter, he smiled at her gratefully. “It’s really sweet that you’re doing this for me.”
“I’m glad to help,” Aria chirped, her confidence renewed. How could her friends think Graham was A? Beyond the fact that it didn’t make any sense, he was just too nice. This morning, she’d picked him up at his room, which was right down the hall from Noel’s, and Graham and his roommate, Carson, were playing video games, laughing. Then, Graham said a polite thank-you to the chambermaid who was coming to clean their room. Psychopath stalkers didn’t get along with their roommates and thank the staff, did they?
Tori finally managed to get the ball through the clown’s mouth. As her friends whooped, Aria shoved Graham toward her. “Uh, nice one, Tori!” he said a little stiffly.
Tori looked over, sized Graham up, and smiled. “Hey, Graham.” Then she looked at her putter. “But you’re lying. I suck.”
“You’re better than I am,” Graham offered bashfully.
Tori smiled, then walked to the next hole. Graham spun back to Aria, looking dejected. “See? I’m hopeless!”
“What are you talking about?” Aria said. “You’re doing great!” She picked up her putter, which she’d leaned against the windmill. “Let’s follow them. Maybe they’ll ask us to play with them.”
“Isn’t it going to look really obvious?” Graham whispered. “We didn’t even play this hole!”
“Who cares?” Aria ran her fingertips along the tip of the clown structure as they walked. “It’s not like anyone is taking this seriously, anyway.” She eyed Tori as she plunked down her ball at the tee and swung her club. “Now you have to figure out what she’s interested in. Then pretend you’re interested in it, too.”
She gave him another nudge, and Graham stepped toward Tori again. He waited until she finished her swing—which, as usual, didn’t go anywhere near the hole—and then cleared his throat. “Do you, um, like Renaissance Fairs?”
Aria winced and considered aborting the operation. She didn’t want Graham to impose his interests on her. But Tori brightened. “I’ve only been to one, but it was pretty cool. Why?”
Graham smiled. “I noticed your ankle bracelet and thought you might have bought it at this Renaissance festival outside Philly. There’s a guy there who makes his own silver jewelry. I worked in the booth next to his one summer.”
Tori stepped over the little divider that separated the putting green from the deck and walked closer to Graham. “What do you do at the festival?”
“I do a bunch of things, but at that particular job I helped this old guy build lutes.”
“What’s a lute?”
Tori raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Graham started to reply, but suddenly Tori’s phone rang. She glanced at it and rolled her eyes. “It’s my mom,” she said, lifting it to her ear. “She’s called me, like, every day since we left.”
Tori walked toward the waterfall at Hole 12. Graham looked confused. “Now what do I do?”
“Nothing.” Aria guided him back toward the clubhouse. “Now you have something to talk about the next time you see each other. And your next task is to ask her out on a date.”
A nervous smile slowly spread across Graham’s face. “Okay.” He cuffed Aria’s arm. “What would I have done without you?”
“Just be sure to invite me to the wedding.” Aria slugged Graham’s shoulder in a friendly way. Then, Aria’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Still smiling, she pulled it out and looked at the screen. Two new picture messages.
Her fingers started to tingle, and she looked up, feeling like someone was watching. A shadow slipped behind the windmill. The door to the clubhouse banged loudly. Something moved behind a trellis. But when Aria stared harder, she didn’t notice anything amiss.
She pressed READ. The first picture loaded on the screen. The Cliff Resort’s famous roof deck was in sharp focus, five heads easily visible over the top. The picture was blurry, but Aria could make out her outstretched hands. Tabitha, in her yellow dress, stood next to her, about to topple over.
When Aria hit the right arrow, the next photo appeared. This shot had been taken a split second later, capturing the moment Aria had pushed Tabitha off. Her body hung in midair. Aria remained on the roof deck, her hands on her hips. She looked like a cold-blooded killer.
“Aria?” Graham stood behind her. “Is everything okay?”
Aria jumped and hid the screen with her hand. “Uh, everything’s fine,” she lied.
She stabbed at the keypad to delete both the photos, but for some reason, they wouldn’t disappear. Every time she clicked into her photo gallery again, there they were, front and center. Her heart thudded. Just having them on her phone made her feel like there was a bull’s-eye on her head. She had to get them off.