One of Those Faces (86)

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said after a moment.

My eyes had adjusted, and I could make out his face clearly now. My stomach knotted both from the pain of thinking of Iann alone and from yearning for Danny. “I’m glad to be here,” I echoed quietly.

“Good night,” he said before rolling to the other side.

I was wide awake. My heart raced as I tossed away the blankets and swung my legs over the side of the bed before lowering down beside Danny.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stiffening and turning back toward me as I slid under his blankets.

I rested my head on the other side of the pillows. “I . . . I don’t want to be alone. Can I sleep down here?”

“Okay,” he said. “You know, it would make more sense for us both to just sleep on the actual bed, right?”

“I hear sleeping on the floor is better for your back.”

He laughed. “Suit yourself.”

I turned on my side, watching as his chest rose and fell, slowing with each breath. This was better than sleeping alone, but I couldn’t stop wishing it were Iann beside me instead. That’s why I couldn’t love Danny back—at least not the way he wanted.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


The next day, instead of coming back and working on the projects I was getting paid to do, I’d only been able to mindlessly doodle a sketch in cheap pen. I had drawn out the photo of Danny and his sailboat, minus the two random girls.

He noticed. “Wait, where are the girls?” he laughed, looking over my shoulder.

“This way is better.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “They’re just friends.” He disappeared into the closet.

I stared down at my drawing. I hadn’t got the smile in his eyes quite right. “Well, maybe you’re too friendly. I mean, I’m a friend, and I’m basically living with you now,” I teased.

His laugh echoed in the closet. “You’re not just a friend.” He reemerged in the same shirt but now was wearing jeans instead of trousers. “You’re an old friend.” He sank onto the edge of the bed. “Harper?” His tone had deepened.

I looked up from the desk at him.

“I need to tell you something.”

I swallowed. I wasn’t sure I could handle whatever he wanted to say.

He sat on the bed across from me. “It’s about Iann.”

My heart sank, and I turned to completely face him.

“There’s something that’s been bothering me since the other night.” He ran his hand down the back of his neck. “You’ve been using pills for a while, right?”

My muscles relaxed slightly at the redirect. “Yeah, on and off. But I told you I don’t have a problem stopping—”

He shook his head. “Yeah, it’s not about that,” he interrupted quickly. “It’s . . . well, that night at the club . . . have you ever reacted to Xanax like that before?”

I could feel the pulsing of the music and Danny’s skin against mine as I’d come to in the middle of the dance floor. “Not exactly like that, but when I first used it with alcohol, I fell asleep really quickly.” I had never lost time like that night before or had trouble breathing.

“And usually you take the pills with alcohol, right? How much?”

I blushed. “I don’t know,” I said quietly. “Sometimes four or five drinks with two pills.”

His eyes widened, but he slammed his mouth shut. “That’s why I’m bothered by that night. You said you collapsed and blacked out because of the pill. But it was only one and then one drink, right?”

I rubbed my hands against the edge of the chair. I recalled the blaring music again, the half-finished rum and Coke when I’d left for the bathroom. “I think so.”

“I don’t think it was the Xanax,” he said slowly, watching me. “Or not just the Xanax. I think what you took was laced with something else or that maybe someone slipped you something.”

I turned my head back to the desk, trying to wrap my mind around what he was really saying. That night was such a blur. “Are you suggesting that someone drugged me?” There was no emotion behind the question, only confusion.

“Not intentionally, maybe,” he said. “But I’ve been working on a piece about how these pills get passed around through college students, and it’s very common that—”

“You think Iann did something to it, don’t you?”

He was silent.

I looked at him again. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t make any sense, Danny,” I said after a moment. “You’re looking for something that’s not there. When I saw you after I got out of the hospital, you thought Iann had hurt me.”

He glanced down at his hands. “Okay, maybe. But there’s something else.”

I waited.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Today I looked into that ex-girlfriend of his that you mentioned.”

I frowned. “Alayna?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Alayna Vasilikas. I read about her death in Washington.” He raised his head and met my eyes. “Iann was interrogated by the police for it.”