Wait…

If I’ve never met my mother, how come I keep having these bursts of memories about her? She used to tell me things, and I remember them.

“Asher and Arianna were devastated.”

“Who’s Arianna?”

Izzy freezes as if she realized what she uttered is taboo. “Uh…forget about it.”

“No, tell me. Please?” I soften my expression. “I feel so lost already. Don’t hide other things from me.”

“Asher’s younger sister. One year younger, to be exact.”

I didn’t know Asher has a sister. There are no pictures or photo albums in this house.

“How come I’ve never met her?” I smile a little. “Does she also go to school abroad?

Her brows furrow as she closes the oven. “She…she passed away.”

My heart thunders in my throat and nausea assaults me. Asher lost a sister? “How? When?”

She opens her mouth to reply but then commotion barges into the kitchen. Asher, Sebastian, and Owen enter, in the middle of an animated conversation.

Asher and Sebastian smile at something Owen says.

I dig my fingers into the dough as my gaze gets lost in Asher’s face. The ease behind his features—it’s the type of smile he never shows me.

All I get are glares and the silent treatment.

Sure enough, when his eyes land on mine, his smile falls, replaced by a calculating streak.

I try not to think about how I look. Flour covers my hands and some of my face as I stand behind the counter, wearing an apron.

“Is this the apocalypse?” Owen slides onto a stool in front of me. “Are you…”

“Baking?” Sebastian finishes for him as he snatches a cookie from the plate. He smells it as if making sure it’s not plastic.

My attention remains on Asher. While Owen and Sebastian sit, flipping the cookies and goofing around, he stands there with a hand in his pocket.

His face is neutral, but I see something more now. I see someone who lost a sibling. For some reason, that type of loss rattles me more than it should.

I’m an only child so I shouldn’t feel the loss of a sibling, but somehow, I do.

I open my mouth even though I don’t even know what I want to tell him. I just want to say something…anything.

He swats Owen’s hand, making him drop the cookie before it’s halfway to his mouth.

“Dude! I was eating that.”

“I just saved your life.” Asher throws a menacing look my way. “It’s probably poisoned.”

“Ouch,” Sebastian drawls, eyes twinkling. “What’s it gonna be, Barbie?”

“What?” I smile to hide how much Asher’s words jab at me.

“The new dare, of course.” He waggles his brows. “Whose miserable soul are you going to slice and dice this time?”

“No one’s.” I wipe my hands on the apron more aggressively than necessary.

“Bored already?” Owen asks with a raised brow.

I level the wide receiver with a glare. “Or all of this is stupid?”

“Stupid?” Owen repeats. “You invented it, Rei-Rei.”

“You could’ve stopped me.” I meet their gazes before focusing back on Sebastian. “And you’re such a hypocrite, Bastian.”

He raises a hand, expression playful. “Don’t put your mistakes on me.”

“You could’ve said no instead of ruining Naomi’s life.”

“Ooh, someone’s in the know.” Owen crunches on a cookie, and for some reason, I feel grateful that he didn’t listen to Asher.

Sebastian cocks his head. “Maybe I did want to ruin her life.”

“Maybe you’re an asshole.”

“Maybe you’re an entitled bitch.”

“Enough.” Asher stares at his friend then at me with an unreadable expression.

“Screw you all.” I ignore them and head to the stairs.

“They taste awesome, Rei-Rei,” Owen shouts behind me.

“Un-screw you, Owen.” I smile without turning around.

He barks out a laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not even a word.”

“It is now.”

I hear him cough as if someone elbowed him. “What? She’s cool.”

Before I round the corner, I steal a look behind me. Asher’s gaze digs daggers into my back. His head is tilted to the side like he can’t figure me out.

Good.

It’s impossible to figure him out, too.

But after what Izzy told me, I’m starting to think maybe, just maybe, his hatred has to do with something I’ve done.

Life goes on…to an extent.

The following week at college is less hectic than the previous one.

It’s almost…normal, or at least what can be called normal for someone who remembers nothing about her life.

My memories are still stuck playing hide and seek.

I asked Alex if I could move back to my apartment downtown. It’s not that I hate the company. I really like Izzy and Jason and the Scrabble nights we’ve had together.

However, I thought going back to the place I lived in for three years might bring back some of my memories.

And yes, I might’ve wanted to escape Asher. I’ve been feeling like shit after finding out about his sister’s death and that I cheated on him.

Not that he didn’t likely fuck countless girls in England, but still. I hate having the cheater tag on me.

It’s such a disturbing, ugly place to be.

Alex, however, denied my request. He diplomatically refused, saying there’s still danger on my safety from that break-in and that I need further rest.

Later that day, I found out from Izzy we had a visit from Detective Daniels. He demanded to speak to me or have me volunteer for questioning. Alex shooed him away, threatening to file a restraining order if he comes to trouble me again.

According to Izzy, I’m lucky to have Alex with me, not against me. Apparently, he’s a notoriously ruthless lawyer.

Maybe it’s because of that I’m not so scared about the mafia threat. It might also have to do with the fact that the black van didn’t show up again.

I sit in Lucy’s car as she drives toward campus. Her purple MINI Cooper stands out in the parking lot like a cute balloon.

I have a white Lexus back at home, but I’m not confident enough to drive it yet.

Bree has been salty because I chose Lucy to be my ride instead of her. Truth be told, I’m more comfortable with Lucy’s non-bitchy character.

True, I was a worse bitch than Bree, but that Reina is gone and will never return.

The first step of redemption: not surrounding myself with demons from my past.

As we exit her car, Lucy shows me an Instagram picture of a few football players drinking in secret. It’s on some account called blackwood-black-book.

“Who’s awful enough to post those pictures?” I ask. “Won’t that ruin their chances to be drafted into the NFL?”

“Could be.” Lucy raises her shoulders. “Blackwood Black Book is all about scandal, though.”

And it seems to be working based on the thousands of followers it’s gained.

“Who runs it?” I ask.

“No one knows.” She laughs. “It’s like a Gossip Girl of sorts.”