Morning sunlight spilled through the windows. I rolled over in bed, waking up to a slight throbbing headache. As I placed my fingers on my temple and moved strands of hair off my face, I caught Griffin. He was leafing through the letters from yesterday, a frustrated expression on his face.

"Good morning," I said. "What time is it?"

"Morning." He smiled. "It's about to be 11."

"What?! We overslept?" I paused, realizing that Griffin had already changed into a clean black t-shirt and black jeans. Despite his tousled hair, his appearance was non-disheveled. "I overslept. Why didn't you wake me up?"

He cracked a small smile. "You seemed tired, Have. I wanted to let you sleep in. It's Saturday, anyway."

"Right." I checked my phone, looking at the unanswered texts from Justin. And then I glanced back at Griffin to see if there was any indication of his confession from last night. If anything had changed. But he looked normal, as if last night had never happened.

He caught me staring and stopped looking through the letters. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Um..." My heart was beating, and it felt like it was in my throat. But nothing had changed on Griffin's face. "No, nothing. We can go back."

I brushed my teeth and washed my face, trying to clear my thoughts. Confusing feelings about Griffin were not part of the plan at all. I couldn't let him mess with my head. The plan was to find out what happened to Natasha, and that was it.

If he wasn't bringing last night up, neither was I.

On the drive back, I snuck a glance at Griffin's face. His hooded coffee-brown eyes were on the road, and his hand dangled casually on the window.

An unfamiliar feeling ran through my stomach, an emotion I couldn't place. I looked away, putting my head on the cool glass of the window. I could've sworn I felt his eyes on me instead now, but I didn't look back to check.

When he pulled up to my home, I heard him let out a small, "Shit."

"What happened?"

I followed his gaze to see a cop car in my driveway. The familiar anxiety crept back into the pit of my stomach, and I absent-mindedly tugged at a strand of my hair.

"Oh, shit is right," I muttered.

"Do you want me to come in?" Griffin said.

"No," I said a little too quickly. When I saw the look on Griffin's face, I quickly said, "Not because I don't want you at my house. We probably shouldn't be together in front of the cops because it'll look bad."

My mom would grill me on why I was with the school's notorious delinquent, but Griffin didn't need to know that.

"You're right," Griffin said after a second. "Text me if you need anything at all."

"I will. Oh, by the way. There's the annual charity formal thing they plan every year. Well, duh, because that's what annual means. But you should come. If you want to, and if you have time," I said. The words came crashing out, and I held my breath, waiting for his response.

He licked his lips uncertainly. "Uh, I've heard about it. But I don't come to that type of thing."

Oh. I felt a surge of disappointment and tried to force a bright smile.

"No yeah, I get it. It's not like a big deal or anything," I said. It was stupid to think that Griffin would come and even sillier of me to care that he wasn't. "Sorry. I... it's stupid."

"No, it's not." Griffin licked his lips. "I like the cause, but it feels like it's just a competition for wealthy parents to show how much money they have. I don't think I'd belong," Griffin said. He wouldn't quite meet my eye, and I felt a wave of tenderness for him.

"It's okay. Seriously. Also, we're not all elitist assholes. Most of us, but not all." He looked up, surprised at my choice of words, and I cracked a smile to show him I was joking. For the briefest of moments, I worried that the dynamic between Griffin and me would change now that we were back home. We would have to go back to being strangers with a past. But I dismissed the thought as soon as it came.

"See you, Griffin," I said, giving him a small smile.

Griffin looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. "See you, Grey."

I walked to the door and turned back to wave, seeing that he was still out front, waiting for me to get inside. Once I was in, I took a deep breath to steady myself. I walked into the living room to see Office Davies and my mom talking in hushed voices.

Dev was sitting there, looking at the officer in confusion. When he saw me, he jumped out of his seat.

"Holy shit, did you do something illegal?" Dev said. "I always thought it would be me to get arrested first."

"Dev," my mom said in a warning tone before turning to me. "Haven, Officer Davies is here to talk to you about the night of the Valentine's Day party."

I could tell from the worry in her eyes that she didn't like the idea of an officer being there, but I tried to shake my head at her slightly, telling her it would be okay.

Even though I didn't know if it was going to be okay.

"Hi, Haven," Officer Davies said. His lips folded into a calm smile. "I'm just going to ask some basic questions that we're asking everyone at the scene, and of course, you can opt out of any question you don't want to answer, given there isn't a lawyer present. But anything you say can help us in this case."

I nodded wordlessly.

"Follow me, then." I followed him into the dining room, looking at the family photos dotting our walls. I tried to focus on younger Haven's smile, reminding myself that this was standard protocol.

I wasn't guilty.

"Haven Grey," Officer Davies said as if he was testing out my name. "You used to be friends with Natasha, right? But I heard there was an argument between you two. Do you want to tell me about that?"

Natasha's last words to me drifted back to me. We were never supposed to be friends.

"Just a small one," I said. "But all friends have fights. It wasn't about anything serious."

Officer Davies nodded slowly. He reached into his bag, pulling out a sheet of paper before sliding it over.

"Does this list ring a bell?"

It was the list of our secrets. I remembered finding it pinned to the walls.

"Yeah," I said. "It was a stupid friendship 'pact' Natasha had wanted to make. I didn't realize it was more for her ammunition."

"To go through a list saying things like this on top of a classmate's death... I can't imagine it's easy for any of you. But I need you to be honest with me, because anything you say can help determine what happened to Natasha."

I didn't answer, scared my voice would catch.

"It says that you and Natasha had a conflict regarding a boy," Officer Davies probed. "This conflict... I'm assuming it's regarding her former boyfriend, Griffin Keely. It must've been hard seeing the person you love with someone else."

Flashbacks of the three of us hanging out came back to me—a time when the three of us were happy. Then, the two of them by her locker together, without even giving me a second glance. As if I had never existed, breaking my heart into pieces.

I swallowed. My eyes stung with restrained tears, and I played with the charms on my bracelet as a distraction.

"Not enough to do what you're implying," I said hoarsely.

Officer Davies' face gave off no emotion. "I'm sure you've heard of Killer Cupid."

I nodded, pressing my hand against my leg so it wouldn't shake.

"It's become quite a big deal online." He raised his burly eyebrows. "Many accounts claim to be this so-called Killer Cupid, or know things about his or her identity."

My mouth tasted like sawdust. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing conclusive," he said. "Unfortunately, many of these accounts are spam or kids playing a joke. But we believe you can help us with something. I want to talk about the murder weapon for a second. The cupid ice sculpture."

I fiddled with my hands underneath the desk. "What about it?"

"Did you know Cupid stems from Roman mythology? A representation of Eros or desire. Love, passion... all these emotions can lead to dangerous things and make people do things they wouldn't usually be capable of." He sat up straighter in his seat, leaning closer to me. "Ironic, right? That the weapon of choice was a Cupid's arrow?"

I looked at him in disbelief. She couldn't think I had anything to do with Natasha's murder.

"I would never hurt Natasha," I snapped. "Not for love, not for anything. I didn't hurt her, and I don't know who did."

"I'm not saying you would hurt her," Officer Davies said. "I'm acknowledging that it would hurt. Love hurts. And that could give you a reason to be frustrated with her."

"You know what hurts?" I looked at him. "Losing your best friend and then realizing you'll never make things okay. Seeing someone who used to be so important to you dead right in front of your eyes and hating yourself for being unable to stop it." I shook my head, eyes stinging. "And the worst part is I have to sit here explaining how I don't have any motive, knowing that no matter what answers I give, she won't come back."

My voice had risen several octaves, and I could feel my heartbeat speeding up alongside it. In the end, I felt the fight inside of me drain. "Is that what you wanted to know, Officer Davies?"

Officer Davies gave me a look that was verging on sympathetic. "That'll be all for now, Haven. But we encourage you to contact us if you need more information." He stood up. "If there's anything you recall from that night that could help with the case, please let us know."

I thought of Taylor's blackmail letters, Kai's unexplained exit at the party, and their weird relationship secretly shared. But instead of saying anything, I shook my head.

"There's nothing."

There was a glint in Officers Davies' eyes, and it passed just as quickly as it came. "You have my number if anything changes."

As he walked outside, I watched his retreating figure with a sinking feeling.

No matter how much progress I thought I was making, in the case or my healing, it all returned to the same thing — the inexplainable feeling I had felt in the car.

Emptiness.