Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute(38)

Aurora’s nose turns red. “Oh, um,” she says, “I want to go to art school. So does Raj.”

“Graphic design,” he says, “and marketing. Aurora’s doing fine art.”

“If I get in,” she mutters.

“Of course you’ll get in,” Sophie says firmly. “You’re very talented—”

Aurora blinks. “But you haven’t seen any of my—”

“And you’re a BEP Explorer. Done deal.”

Have I mentioned how much I like Sophie? “What about you?” I ask her.

She smiles almost shyly and adjusts the scarf covering her hair. “Oh, well, I want to study politics and international relations. Not sure what I’ll do with it yet, but…”

It’s a good degree, I think. Stable job opportunities.

“The world is at a crossroads,” she says. “Nation-states can’t effectively combat global problems, but climate change and waning resources are some of the most pressing issues we have. I don’t know. Just…someone needs to do something.” She shrugs. “Lots of someones.”

Well, spit in my eye and call me a shallow bastard.

“Celine?” Sophie asks.

Here we bloody go. “I’m studying law,” Celine says.

“You’re going to be just like Katharine,” Thomas murmurs dreamily. I really wish he’d get a grip. (For his own good, obviously.)

Celine smiles, not in the cautious, begrudging way she does with me, but like a pageant queen humbly accepting her bouquet. “Nooo. Oh my God. I do admire her a lot…. That suit against Harkness Oil?” Celine shakes her head in worshipful awe. “But I have a long, long way to go before I could do something like that.”

A crease forms between Thomas’s ginger eyebrows. “Didn’t she lose the Harkness Oil suit? Am I remembering wrong?” He is clearly tortured by the fact he’s had to question the almighty HowCelineSeesIt.

“Oh, technically she lost it.” Celine nods. “It was unwinnable. But that’s not the point. The point is someone embarrassed them. Someone took a billion-pound company to task and drew the world’s eyes to their behavior. And the victims did get settlements out of court. She helped people and she changed public perception—which has such a huge impact on long-term governance, you know?”

Sophie is nodding wisely. “It’s all about chipping away at big structures.”

“Exactly,” Celine agrees, and the two have an eyeball-based communion of the soul right over my head.

“So, you want to go into human rights law like Katharine?” Aurora asks.

Celine’s blissed-out expression shutters with a blink. “No. No, I’m…going to try corporate law.” She studies her nails, and I think maybe I’m not the only imposter in this room.

“Huh,” Sophie says after a moment. “So—” Her phone vibrates in her hand, three times fast, and she breaks off with a frown. “Shit. Guys.”

“What?” I crane my neck to read over her shoulder. She tilts the screen in my direction.

Mary: don’t be mad but I told Allen about the party and I think he snitched





Mary: just heard Holly & Zion in the hall





CELINE


If I weren’t so busy panicking, I’d be flattered by the fact that Sophie turns to me first. “Do you think we have time to go back?”

Absolutely not. We are screwed screwed screwed, doomed to zeroes on the Matrix at best, and my stomach is sloshing around like an ocean of nerves. “No,” I manage. Why did I think this was a good idea? WHY? I blame Bradley.

“All right.” Sophie looks grimly around the room. “Everyone and everything under the bed.”

“Seriously?” Thomas huffs. “Under the bed?”

“Got a better idea?”

“It’s just a party!” He scowls.

“Cheer up,” Aurora cuts in. “This is an experience. We’re living life on the edge.”

Raj shakes his head and points at her. “We’ll talk about your secret daredevilry later.” When she giggles—giggles—in response, he grins. “Or we could talk now. How do you feel about motorbikes?”

“I—”

“Guys,” Brad says mildly. He has none of Sophie’s authority, and he’s not glaring at anyone the way Thomas is, but for some reason Raj and Aurora snap out of it and everyone gets their shit together. In a whirl of panic, we rip banners off the wall and stuff crisp packets into dark and dingy corners. Sophie drops a cupcake and mutters, “RIP, man. We barely ate ye.” Then she brushes it, crumbs and all, under the bed, and Brad very quietly goes into cardiac arrest. Everyone’s laughing and nervous and breathless right up until the moment we hear a door creak down the hall and a low, rapid-fire murmur that sounds disturbingly like Zion.

They’re close. Too close. And I’m convinced this place is obviously occupied and smells like a gin factory. Raj is still wrestling with all the blankets we laid out. I’m stuffing chocolate out of sight and wondering if Brad brought any scented candles (I wouldn’t put it past him; he’s very particular about his space), when I notice everyone’s finally leaping for their hiding places. And I realize that, duh—