“Yes. She did,” I say, feeling light-headed.
“So y’all…talked about it?”
I take a few measured breaths, then sit up and face her all the way, my feet planted on the sundeck. “We more than talked about it, Hannah.”
She stares at me, looking shocked. “You were…together?”
“Sort of,” I say. I take a deep breath and start rambling. “It started in April. Before graduation. I kissed her—and we hung out a few times after that. I was in her room the night before she died…. Nothing happened. She was just studying. But I saw her for a few minutes—”
“Oh my God, Tyson,” she whispers. “I had no idea.”
I bite my lip and nod, feeling a wave of familiar guilt that I was the last person to talk to Summer in any meaningful way. I’d been in the best position to prevent what happened. I could have stayed in her room. And I didn’t.
“How have you kept this secret for so long?” she says.
I shake my head and say, “I didn’t see how telling you would have helped the situation.”
“Wait. Does anyone know? Did you tell Summer’s parents?”
I shake my head. “No. You were the only one I considered telling. I almost did. So many times.”
“What stopped you?” Hannah asks.
I sigh and say, “I don’t know. I could never get the words out. And part of me felt it would be disloyal to Summer…. It was her secret, too.”
Hannah nods, her eyes wide. “Well, I’m glad you finally told me. And I hope you feel a weight lifted. I can’t believe you’ve lived with that all alone for all these years.”
I nod, realizing that I do feel lighter. But I can’t help wondering if Hannah now blames me, on some level, for what happened. Something on her face seems slightly off.
“I want to talk about this more,” she says, her voice sounding funny, too.
“We don’t have to, actually,” I say. “There’s not much more to say.”
“Still. I’d like to,” she says. “But for now, we should probably go check on Lainey.”
“Probably,” I say, grateful for a subject change.
We gather up our things and head back inside. The cold, dark bar is a shock to the system and a bit depressing after being out in the bright sunlight. We look around, but there is no sign of Lainey or Dog Boy.
“Oh, snap,” I say under my breath. “This isn’t a good sign.”
“I’m sure she just went upstairs to sleep it off.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Sleep it off—or sleep with—”
“Tyson. Stop.”
“Well, don’t act like that’s not a distinct possibility.”
“No way. They just met. It’s the middle of the day.”
I shake my head at her “middle of the day” comment, guessing that Hannah is a sex-at-bedtime kind of girl—and only after her teeth are brushed and flossed.
“Besides, he’s not her type,” Hannah says. “He seems a little nerdy for her.”
“Oh, please. Lainey doesn’t have a type. Anything goes,” I say.
We ride the elevator in silence, and a few seconds later, we’re in front of our door. I put my key card up to the sensor. It turns green, but as I push the door open, I discover that Lainey has the security guard latched.
“Oh, hell no,” I say, giving the door a hard pound. “Now we’re locked out of our own room?”
“Calm down,” Hannah says in a low voice.
“She’s so rude. I told you she’s fucking him—”
“You don’t know that, Tyson. I always put the security latch on when I’m in the room alone.”
I pound on the door again.
“Chill out!” we hear Lainey shout. “I’m coming.”
A second later, the door swings open. Lainey looks sheepish and disheveled in an oversize T-shirt and quite possibly nothing else.
I blow past her but stop when I see Dog Boy sitting there on the edge of the bed, shirtless and shoeless.
“Jesus,” I say under my breath.
“What?” she snaps back. “We were just talking.”
