Reputation(66)

“I know.” Alexis’s finger traces a flower pattern on the inside of my wrist. “Tell me why you were crying the day I met you in the coffee shop.”

My mind freezes. I hadn’t expected her to ask this.

There’s no way I can tell Alexis the truth. Except she’s looking at me so eagerly, so excitedly, her eyes gleaming, her posture straight and expectant. She knows I’m hiding something. Maybe she’s worried about me. Maybe she just wants to know. The secret feels like currency—if I tell her, then she’ll feel even closer to me. Then she’ll kiss me again. Then I’ll record it.

It’s not like I have to tell her everything. I just have to tell her enough.

My fingers grapple for my phone, which I finally locate between two cushions. I will say this, and then I will press RECORD.

“You’re right,” I admit softly. “I was upset about that doctor. Greg. He and I were . . . close.”

Alexis’s whole body seems to thrum. “Were you Lolita?”

I arch my neck, staring at the constellations, and then I’m transported back to the Mannings’ kitchen. Greg was watching me, considering me. Our bodies were just inches from one another. I thought what I saw in his eyes was desire. I thought we were going to crash together, all lips and arms and torsos, and that I’d have him where I wanted him.

But then he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re better than this, Raina.”

It felt like he’d dumped a bucket of water over my head. I stepped back. “What?” I spluttered.

“I wasn’t Lolita,” I tell Alexis now. “Greg and I weren’t even together. But . . . well, he was giving me money. He was paying my Aldrich tuition.”

Alexis blinks. “He was? How’d that happen?”

Greg guessed about me that night. He somehow knew I’d tried to seduce Alfred and was planning to try the trick on him next. When Greg questioned my motives, I spilled it all so quickly, almost like I’d been waiting for the chance. To this day, I don’t know why. Maybe because of the caring in his voice. Maybe because I needed someone to listen.

I told Greg I’d come to Aldrich only to milk Manning; I’d done my research, reading up on a bunch of high-powered men in high-powered places, and I thought a university president would be the perfect, trusting mark, the sort of man who didn’t have much experience with women or blackmail or anything treacherous and seedy. It also helped that Aldrich was only a simple drive away, and I could rent a hideout cheaply while I played out the con—something I couldn’t do in a more expensive city, like Philadelphia or New York. And most of all, I knew I was smart. I knew I could blend in at a college better than at my high school. I wanted a better life for myself, and this felt like a stepping-stone. Okay, a somewhat questionable stepping-stone, but I had to make do with what I had.

To infiltrate Manning’s life, though, I had to pose as a student. It wasn’t much of a stretch. I’d applied to Aldrich the prior year—and I’d even gotten in. But I’d torn up the admission letter. Aldrich was a place full of rich kids, entitled kids—I wouldn’t belong.

But as it turns out, I liked pretending to be a student. A lot. I wished I didn’t just audit the Aldrich classes—I wished I could go for real. Greg had looked at me with sympathy. “You’re smart,” he’d said. “You should.” And then a light had come on in his eyes. Resoluteness. “I’ll fund you,” he said. “I’ll send you to Aldrich. But you have to promise me two things: One, you can’t tell anyone. And two, you have to use it for school—nothing else.”

But I can’t say this to Alexis—I can’t show my hand. Instead, I describe my poor upbringing instead. How my parents didn’t care about saving for my education. How I wanted a better life for myself, but they just rolled their eyes. Then I paint a picture of Greg and me hanging out in the kitchen alone and all of this pouring out of me. It isn’t far from the truth.

“I told Greg the only thing I wanted was to stay at Aldrich—I’d fallen in love with it by then. But I couldn’t afford the tuition,” I explain. “And Greg said he was trying to make some positive, charitable changes in his life, and that funding me to stay at Aldrich would be one of them.” A wistful feeling swoops through me, remembering how joyful I’d felt that night. It was like I’d been given a reprieve from the gallows. “He made good on his promise. We met every month. He wanted to see how I was progressing in my classes. He was like my advisor, in a way. And he always gave me the money. Sometimes through an app, but sometimes cash.

“But then . . . he was killed.” A lump grows in my throat. “I couldn’t believe it. He was such a good guy. That Lolita bullshit people found out about him—I don’t know what that was all about, but I never saw that side of him. And now I’m stuck. I don’t know how I’m going to stay in school after this semester. I’m so . . . lost.”

The patio is silent, save for the chirping crickets. I glance at Alexis, figuring she’ll move in for a hug. Or maybe, just maybe, she’ll tell me that she’ll pay my tuition. How wonderful would that be? I wouldn’t have to scam her. I could just . . . be with her, and she’d pay my way through school, and we’d be so happy.

“So wait,” Alexis says slowly. “You have no more money coming in?”