"So, I thought we were trying this friend thing out." Griffin stood by my locker, wearing a brown leather jacket and jeans. His tousled hair practically reached his eyes, making me wonder how he drove and if he could even see properly. "Or is that just a thing we do in private?" He continued, looking at me expectantly, with his lips drawn into the familiar smirk as he waited for my answer.

"Well, we're not exactly friends," I told him, smoothing my checkered skirt. "We're..."

"Wrongly accused criminals?"

"Griff.In."

"Sorry," he apologized, leaning his body weight against the locker next to mine. The scent of his woodsy cologne and aftershave lingered in the air, sending a wave of warmth through me.

"I didn't think visiting each other by our lockers before class counted in that deal anyway," I told him.

"Not talking about this. I meant yesterday at the vigil. I called after you, but you were storming away."

"That was you?" I asked in surprise. "Sorry. I thought it was Justin."

There was a flicker of emotion on his face, but only for a second. "What happened?"

The last thing I wanted was to tell Griffin Keely about the tragic end of my relationship with Justin. I tried to busy myself with taking books out of my locker.

He took my silence as an answer by adding, "You know, they say the honeymoon period only lasts a certain amount of time with the wrong person."

"Your history of one relationship is enough for you to know that?" I said wryly.

"No. I just know when someone's the wrong person. It's easier than knowing when someone's good for you."

I closed the locker door and then turned to him. "That's because people never want someone good for them. They crave pain and confuse that with love."

"People or you?" His words hurt because of the truth behind them. I hated how he could see me so clearly and openly; ironically, more than the day he had seen me in the picture. You had to fear those people who saw you truly naked, not the type where there was bare skin, but when they could see your thoughts, the things you tried to hide; when you're truly vulnerable.

Because that's when you give them the ability to ruin you.

Before I could turn away in annoyance, he grabbed my wrist gently, pulling me back.

"I was just messing Grey, but you went and got all deep on me," he said, laughing softly. "I just know 'deserves better' when I see it. You're a lot smarter than just being Justin's girlfriend. You're, you know. Haven Grey. Lifeguard."

When he saw the hint of a smile on my face, he kept going. "What do you define as the nice guy anyway?" he said. "I'm nice, and women use me for sex." I knew he was kidding, but I still humored him.

"You're not that nice."

He laughed, and the familiar sparkle returned to his eyes.

"Besides, I know plenty of girls in love with you," I said, backing away, so he wasn't as close. He casually leaned, closing the distance again. I gave him a look, but he seemed oblivious to it.

"Name one," he said.

"Tori Sanchez. Amy Walker. Carter Davis. Carter's sister. Hell, Carter's brother, even. Should I keep the list going?"

"Nah. I know a bunch of girls do. It's just great hearing it." He winked and broke into his half-smile. Before I could roll my eyes, a high-pitched voice cut through the air like glass.

"Guess the word is true," Willow said snippily. I turned to see her coming by, swinging her handbag with each step. "You move on real fast, Haven. What happened to you and Justin?"

"Willow, don't you have better things to do than be in somebody else's business?" Griffin said irritably.

She looked unfazed, although she did stop briefly to narrow her eyes at him. "The pseudo virgin playing the good girl and the walking STD. How cute." Flipping her auburn hair, she kept walking.

Griffin looked at her retreating figure with annoyance, and I gave him a small smile. "You didn't have to do that," I said.

"What? Defend you? Willow's not the nicest." He shrugged. "Besides. People are giving you shit, and you don't deserve that."

"What, you don't want to join them?" I joked. "Your reputation might get messed up." I was teasing, but not really.

He furrowed his eyebrows as if it surprised him I said that. "Not that I have the best one anyway, but let it. I couldn't give a fuck." He looked at me, and I couldn't believe the boy who was the sweetest to me was the one person who didn't need to be.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I mean, it's whatever." He said in a low tone, stepping back a little. I think he thought he was being too friendly, too, because it took him a while until he met my gaze. I was going to tell him I didn't mean thank you just for standing up for me now, but before I could, a girl walked up to Griffin, placing her hand on his shoulder.

The dead girlfriend card had somehow attracted even more girls to him. This was a beautiful blonde who pouted and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Griffy, I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Do you want me to come over tonight? I can take your mind off things." I didn't even know if she saw me standing there, but from how she bit her lip, it didn't seem like she cared.

I shut my locker door and gave him a small smile to say goodbye, leaving before he could say anything. No matter what weird unsaid attraction there was, I would never actually make any moves because of Natasha, and I knew he wouldn't either. I didn't even think he felt anything for me.

As soon as the investigation was over, we would inevitably become strangers, and I'd have to go back to realizing there was no place for us in each other's lives.

I found my assigned seat in English, my last-period class. Jeremy brightened as soon as I entered. "Today's poem is about cold-blooded murder or something," he said. "You might enjoy it."

"Jeremy, do you get off on annoying people?" I said, giving him a pointed look. "Is it a weird kink?"

He shrugged, grinning. "Sort of. I heard some news vans were coming to our school to interview people about the Natasha incident, so I'm just giving you some interview practice."

This was news to me. I fiddled with my pencil nervously. "Why are they coming here?" I asked.

"Are you kidding me? This type of shit doesn't happen at Fairwood. People are going to be on it for days." He looked at me like he was contemplating something. "You should probably try to get out of it. They frame you to look bad."

"When?" I said, my stomach twisting.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Probably after school."

Perfect. Tomorrow was Friday, which was the day we were going to Natasha's beach house. If I could leave earlier, I could avoid the entire mess. Of course, I wanted to warn the others, so I made a mental note to talk to them beforehand and be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, looking at him earnestly.

"Like I believe you had something to do with Natasha," he said.

"You don't?" I said, surprised. "But you keep saying —"

"It's fun messing with you, but no, I know you didn't do it. You couldn't hurt a fly. So, I'm saving your ass. You're welcome."

I felt a small smile creep up on my face. "Aw, Jeremy — "

"But also, it wouldn't hurt if you told Taylor some good things about me."

I didn't roll my eyes at his ulterior motives because, oh my gosh, he liked Taylor?!

"Were you the one who sent her that singing gram on Valentine's Day?" I said, remembering the anonymous performance.

"God, you wanna say it louder?" Jeremy said. "Not only has she never noticed me, but I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm gay."

I laughed. "She doesn't think that. I can put in a good word as soon as..." I drifted off, remembering Taylor and I weren't in a good place right now. Maybe finding out that Jeremy had been the secret admirer would be a good icebreaker.

"Hey Jeremy, can I ask you something?"

"You already did."

"Be less annoying, or I won't tell Taylor about you."

"Duly noted. Continue." He leaned back in his seat, placing his arms behind his head.

"Has anyone said or posted anything about Killer Cupid lately?"

He pulled his phone out, sliding it towards me. "I have all the top posts in my favorites. I'm trying to find out stuff for my blog, too. See for yourself."

I looked at the post.

Cupid's Guide to Murder:

Think of it as a playbook or a friendly how-to for dummies.

Whatever you choose, remember ... someone always ends up dead. Who do you think it'll be next?

"This is a threat," I said. "I mean, someone has to be working to take it down, right?"

He shrugged. "There's been a lot of pop-up blogs and posts like this. Several people want to pretend to be the Killer Cupid. There's no saying if it's the real deal or not. This is just the account with the most followers."

"Have they posted anything else?"

"Nope," he said.

I settled back in my seat. "Did the account have any location tags?"

"No, but the post did. They posted it from Eastwood."

Eastwood. Natasha's beach house.

"Thank you, Jere," I said. "You don't know how much you just helped me."

Mrs. Reagan's back was to the class as she started writing on the board, giving me a chance to pull out my phone under the desk. I texted Griffin.

Are you down to leave earlier than Friday? Tonight?

Skip a day? Finally, you decide to be a little wild.

Griffin's text came almost immediately, and I frowned.

What? I can be wild

I realized how that sounded and quickly sent another one.

Ignore that text

^ Too easy.

I narrowed my eyes at his reply, imagining his smug smile. 

I think I have a new lead. Killer Cupid - they posted from a location tag in Eastwood. Natasha's beach house is there. Do you think it's a coincidence?

A bloody eerie one, if it is.

I took my bottom lip in between my teeth before releasing it. Before I could put my phone away, he texted again.

So much for saying goodbye at your locker, by the way.

You were busy, I typed, sneaking a glance at the front.

Jealous?

Nope. Happy for you

No reply for a few minutes, and then he texted.

She's pretty hot, right?

Rolling my eyes, I replied.

Smokin'.

"Ms. Grey, do you want to share how Robert Frost is amusing to you?" Mrs. Reagan asked, her eyebrows drawn in together. She had turned to me. A few kids snickered, and I felt my cheeks turn red as I tried to focus back to the front.

"Um, no. Sorry."

"Very well." Thankfully, she continued, and I put my phone away. I did not need detention on my list of things to worry about right now.

When the final bell rang, I was desperate to find Taylor. I found her in her usual parking spot, right by the soccer field. She was sitting in the front seat of her car, on the phone with someone. I approached her when I saw her raise her hand in a fist and hit the steering wheel in anger.

What the hell was that about? I quickened my pace until I reached her window so she wouldn't leave. I knocked on her glass hesitantly, and she practically jumped in her seat, turning to me. She rolled her window down and shook her head.

"You scared me. What's up?"

"I was hoping things would be okay between us," I said. "Can we talk?"

She sighed. "Yes. Come sit." I moved to the passenger seat and closed the door, and she spoke first.

"Sorry, I acted like that at the vigil. It was bitchy of me."

"It's okay. Who were you on the phone with?" I asked.

"Nobody," she said, shaking her head. "My dad called, asking if he should get takeout for dinner."

She was lying. I knew from how she leaned slightly and her nose twitched — trivial things, but not to someone who knew her as well as I did.

"Taylor. What's going on?"

"It's nothing," she protested. "Look, did you come here to patch things up between us or question me about a phone call?"

"The first one," I said slowly, realizing she wouldn't tell me if I pushed. "I figured out who your secret admirer is. Jeremy Sanders," I told her, attempting to make her smile.

"Jeremy," she repeated. "Oh. He's chill. A little too invested into other's lives, but sweet."

"Like, you'd go on a date with him, type sweet? Because seriously, the guy has it bad for you."

She finally smiled, shaking her head. "You know I swore off boys. Unless it's my sister's boyfriend."

"How is Megan?" I prodded.

"Our relationship is pretty messed up," she admitted. "And you know the bad part? I don't even regret what I did. I just feel bad that I got caught."

I knew she was referring to hooking up with her sister's boyfriend, but I wondered what it would be like if those words were about Natasha.

Her phone vibrated again. She clicked the end button so the screen would fade to black, but not before I saw the contact.

Kai.

Taylor and Kai weren't friends at all.

"Dad again?" I said lightly.

"Yup," she said. "He's been on my case again lately. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll see you around," I said, incapable of saying much else.

Taylor nodded. She waved at me as she pulled out of the lot. As her car disappeared into the distance, becoming smaller and smaller until it was completely out of the frame, I could almost feel Natasha next to me, watching me and asking,

How much do you trust the people around you?

And with just one blink, she was gone, and I had the sudden feeling that someone was watching me.

I turned around, but there was no one to be seen.