Infatuation

I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.

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19. Adam

I don't know what possessed me to text her. To ask for her help. She had no idea that I'd stolen her number from Devon's phone the night at the park. Nor did she know that I was the one who killed Katherine.

My phone chimed and the noise was so loud in the dark room. I looked at the screen.

Text from: Avery at 11:15PM

Who is this?

Before I could answer, she'd called me. I stared at the phone for a long time, then I hit the little green button.

"You know, you shouldn't call a strange number in the middle of the night."

"Who—Adam? Is that you?"

She didn't seem too disturbed.

"I need your help," I told her. "Something happened. In the park."

She was quiet for a few minutes, and then: "The body. I know. But what does that have to do with you?"

Oh, sweetheart, you are an idiot.

"I know who killed her."

"Can you meet me?" Avery asked, sounding alarmed. "In Hannigan Park?"

I smiled as the darkness in my heart grew.

"Yes," I said softly. "I can."

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