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“See?” Leon says. “We use it. Who cares if we did it or not? It’ll be a running gag. Just make sure someone posts once a week, and we’ll get more members.”

“What if the person who posted it comes back?” Ira whispers, his eyes even larger than normal.

“Play dumb,” I mumble.

This solves two problems at once.

Members and correspondence.

Everyone will think someone else posted the new Polaroid. Maybe I’ll get another reply.

Chapter 5

Beckett

Ira and I normally part ways after club.

Except…

I need to go back to our room.

After my last art installation turned into a landfill, I’ve been trying to find the next perfect candidate. Single. No immediate family members. Secluded neighborhood. House built within the last ten years with blueprints on file. Easily accessible on foot if necessary—the list is extensive.

There’s only so much research I want to do in public.

I turn left down the hall, and I hear his footsteps following me. Out the door, and he’s still here.

Why does this feel like Saturday night all over again…? I think I’ve suffered enough embarrassment for one lifetime.

“What’re your plans for tonight?” I ask over my shoulder. “Anything fun?”

“Maybe.”

Short. Cryptic.

Ira.

“What’s uh—what’s maybe?”

He sidles up next to me, barely coming up to my ear. “It depends.”

My heart’s pounding, and I’m not sure why. He’s never made me uncomfortable before, and nothing between us has changed. At least, I don’t think it’s changed for him.

I clear my throat.

“You mind me asking what it depends on?”

“You.”

Suddenly, I don’t want to continue our conversation.

I hoist my backpack diagonally across my chest so my shoulder stops screaming and listen to our footsteps cross the pavement. The weather’s warmer than it has been. Some of the birds must have forgotten it’s close to winter, and they’re louder than ever. I inhale fresh cut grass—

“What were you going to say Saturday, Beckett?”

And nearly choke to death.

“You—you can call me Beck,” I manage after a minute. My throat still burns.