"In a perfect world, people like us still wouldn't coexist." Natasha smiled, but it was empty. Her eyes were on the Monopoly board, but she looked lost in thought.

"Is this your way of stopping us from playing the game because you're losing?" I grinned, holding up the pair of dice in my hand. "Because tough luck. I rolled an eight, and I'm about to buy Boardwalk, which gives you a less than 10% chance of winning."

She gave me a look. "I'm serious."

"Okay, fine. Why?" I leaned forward, raising my eyebrows.

"Because we're too different. People love you. If you weren't here one day, your friends would be heartbroken. So would your family. The entire school would experience a complete transformation. People's lives would change. Everyone leaves someday, but no one could ever forget you."

"That's not true. People would remember you, too."

Natasha bit her lip before releasing it. "Remembering someone isn't the same thing as loving them."

--

The sky was dark gray, the air thick with humidity. From the looks of it, we were in for a heavy rainstorm. I walked across the navy green turf, noticing the prom banner was still hanging on the bleachers. And in the rows of blue and gray seats, I saw him.

I had scooped my long black hair into a high ponytail and reapplied my lip gloss. I told myself it was because I wanted to look put-together, not because I cared about what he thought I looked like.

Taylor would kill me if she found out I had texted Griffin to meet. She had told me to stay away, but that was something I couldn't seem to do. Besides, I needed answers, and Griffin was the only one that would have them. After tossing and turning, thinking about his police investigation last night and the list situation, I didn't want to waste any more time.

Griffin's face was half hidden from his navy-blue hood, but he lowered it as I approached, his eyes falling on me. A quick once-over, but it was still one that made my cheeks hot.

He looked like the storm itself, light and dark, the Cupid's bow above his lips arched and eyes swirling with an unrecognizable intense emotion. I sat next to him, feeling his familiar scent of woody cedar cologne engulfing me. He looked freshly shaved, his usual scruff missing and cheeks softer than expected.

He pulled something out of his pocket, and when I saw the stick, I could only assume it was a cigarette.

My heart dropped. I knew you shouldn't judge people for smoking, and I didn't. I just wished he wouldn't. But when he finished pulling the object out, I saw it wasn't a cigarette.

It was a cherry lollipop.

"Want one?" His voice was gravelly, but sweet.

"Ew, no. They taste like medicine." I wrinkled my nose at him. "I might as well just take off-brand Tylenol."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You haven't changed."

I wondered if that was a good thing.

"Hey, at least these don't kill you." His eyes met mine. "I stopped smoking. I decided I was too young to see what it's like up there."

I felt giddy hearing that. "That's good. I mean, for you." I bit the inside of my cheek so that I didn't smile.

"Traded those death sticks for these death sticks." He placed the lollipop in his mouth, casually letting it dangle. He looked like he belonged in Grease, with messy hair and a lazy smile. "Something too sweet in your system can ruin you, too." His voice was husky, and he looked at me when he said it.

I flushed.

"So, you want to tell me why you texted about meeting in private?" Griffin peered at me, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "That's what guilty people do, right? Meet in secret. But we're innocent."

"I'd like to think so," I said.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips, making the freckle above it dance. "Ahh, I see. I remember how that mind of yours used to work, Haven. Chances are, you've already created detective theories about why you shouldn't trust me."

I chewed my lip. I didn't answer, not wanting to prove his point or that he could read me so well. He always had been able to.

"If you don't trust me, it's not the safest to meet me in secret, right?" Griffin said, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. "We could've met someone more public. Like a cafeteria, maybe. There are a lot of witnesses there, in case I'm looking for my next target." Beyond the teasing glint, I could see that it hurt that I didn't trust him. He thought the humor would conceal it, but I could see the crack in his exterior.

I guessed I could read him well, too.

His usual charm wouldn't work on me. Not today.

"Did you have anything to do with that list?" I said, staring at the threaded lines on my palms. I said it matter-of-factly, like I didn't care about his response. Like I hadn't been thinking about this moment of truth since the first period.

"What list?" Griffin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"There's a list going around school," I said. "You haven't seen it?"

"Uh, I don't spend too much time at school, if you haven't noticed," Griffin said in his casual drawl. "So no, I don't pay attention to the walls."

I ignored his sarcasm. "It's a list Natasha made before her death with our secrets."

Griffin turned to me, attention piqued.

"I know you know about it. That's part of the reason you left her, right? You couldn't be with someone you didn't trust." I chose my words carefully, ignoring how my heart raced against my ribcage.

Griffin licked his lips, squinting at me. "Okay, you're right. I knew about it. I even had a copy."

My heart sank. "And?"

"And that's it. I took a lighter to it and watched it burn to ensure it would never resurface. I wasn't letting her do that to you."

If Griffin truly was innocent, then that meant that there was someone else who had access to Natasha's things —

Which was bad.

Very bad.

"Well, you still have a viable reason to want to see her gone, and you were the last person who knew about her whereabouts before she disappeared. So, start talking." I was proud of myself for sounding like a proper detective.

"That's what this is about?" Griffin shook his head, removing the lollipop from his mouth and placing it back inside the wrapper. "I knew you weren't my biggest fan, but thinking I'm capable of murder... Really?"

When I didn't respond, his eyebrows knitted together. "C'mon, Grey—Haven." He cleared his throat, catching himself from calling me by my last name like he used to. "You know me."

"Used to," I said almost instantly.

"Yeah, well." Griffin's eyes were a deep shade of blue, clouded with a dark haze. "That has to count for something." His words echoed in the silence, and he ducked his head down, so he wasn't looking at me.

At that moment, I knew he was telling the truth.

He wouldn't hurt us, just like he wouldn't hurt Natasha. Griffin had his secrets like all of us, but lying had never been his vice. Maybe I would regret it later, but I believed him. "I trust you. I don't know why or if you deserve it, but I do."

His shoulders relaxed visibly, and I noticed the way his eyes brightened. It looked like he cared about what I thought of him, even though he shouldn't. "I might be a killer freak in other people's eyes, and I don't give a shit about that. But I can't have you look at me like you were now."

"Sorry," I said quietly, ignoring how his words made my stomach flutter. "But if it's not you, then that still means someone out there has access to Natasha's computer. Do you know anyone that would have her password?"

"She didn't have a password." He sighed. "Ironic for someone who has a lot to hide."

"Cupid's smarter than I thought," I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. "Cupid? Like, the little guy with curly hair and a heart-shaped bow?" He looked at me like I had officially lost it.

"No, but someone who wants to pretend to be him. Calling themselves Killer Cupid," I said. "Before we found Natasha's body, I was getting these threatening notes labeled Cupid's Guide to Murder — just like the one left at the crime scene. This means the person sending the notes knew exactly what would happen to her before it even happened." I chewed my lip, remembering the messy scrawl on the notes. "Maybe they even wanted it to happen."

"Is this a sick Valentine's Day prank?"

"I thought it was, too." I shook my head. "But I guess it stops being a prank when we find someone's dead body."

Griffin's dark eyebrows furrowed. "So... this person's a killer Cupid, and it could be anyone who would've had access to you and Natasha. What else do we know?"

"Nothing. Several people could have access to us. Do you know how many stalkers they find daily in just New York?" I winced.

"Doesn't have to be a stalker."

I glanced at Griffin.

"The only person who could know about you more than a stalker is a friend." His words caused a chilling sensation to run down my spine.

"Maybe even one you and Natasha had in common," Griffin added. I might've been the over-thinker, but Griffin was too smart for his good. I could already see the gears in his head turning, trying to see if he could connect any person to the notes.

"Natasha hurt several people. But I know these people. I grew up with them. My friends wouldn't hurt her." My voice was steady, even though I wasn't so sure on the inside.

"Whatever you believe." Griffin gave me a knowing look, and I flushed, placing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"What did they ask you at the police station last night?"

"They wanted to know when I had last heard from her." He shook his head. From here, his eyes were dangerously blue. The bump on his otherwise perfect nose almost seemed like it didn't belong. "I told them I didn't."

"Well, they have to believe you," I said. "You're telling the truth. You didn't answer her call."

This time, his smile was half-hearted. "Yeah." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. I had the slightest suspicion that he wasn't telling me the entire story, but I pushed the thought away as soon as it came.

"Either way, they say they're on our side, but I call bullshit. Everyone at the party is on their suspect list," he muttered. 

"A suspect list. God, it sounds like a shitty true crime podcast." I shook my head, pursing my lips in disbelief.

Before he could answer, my phone vibrated with a text. I glanced at the screen to see Taylor's name and profile picture.

Are you seriously hanging out with Griffin??? Saw you guys on my way out to the parking lot. You were supposed to AVOID him. For all we know, he's a psycho killer!

Was she some secret spy or something? I had been so careful not to be seen. A frown came to my lips as I re-read her text. Taylor had never been one to hold back, but she didn't have to treat Griffin like he was the dirt stuck to the bottom of her platform heels. Before I could send a reply, I snuck a glance at Griffin's face. His eyes were strangely empty, a scowl tugging at his lips.

"If the police stuff is all you wanted to know," he said, not meeting my eye, "Can I go now?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. "What?"

"That's why you called me, right? You wanted to make sure I didn't hurt Natasha. Well, now you have your answer." He ran a hand over his chin, his eyes darting away from mine. "Look, I saw Taylor's text."

I swallowed. "She's just over-protective. She doesn't know you like I — "

"Used to?" he finished for me, his cheeks hollow as he sucked a breath in.

I fell quiet.

"I'm not here to draw a wedge between you and your friends, Haven. I don't blame them if they think you should stay away from me. They're probably right." His voice was sarcastic, filled with hatred for himself. "I'm bad news, and seeing the two of us together looks even worse."

I tried to ignore the rush of hurt.

What had I even been expecting? For Griffin and I to work together? For us to become friends again because of our past?

It was sick to hold on to someone because you both shared the same pain. Nothing had changed, aside from the fact that the two of us were just as good at playing with fire.

"It's probably better if we stay at a distance," Griffin said, sticking his hands inside his pockets. "For both of us."

The worst part wasn't how hard it was to be near him and yet so far away or that my friends thought he was a killer.

The worst part was that he was right.

We would always be better at a distance.

I nodded, despite the little voice in my mind screaming to say otherwise. "You're probably right," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt his eyes on me but didn't meet his gaze because I knew it would take away any resolve I had left.

"See you around, Haven," Griffin said, jaw ticked. As he made his way down the bleachers, I felt the all-too-familiar swirl return to my stomach. The feeling was like right before a roller coaster drop, except we weren't at an amusement park, and a bumpy ride didn't lead to euphoria.

This time, it only led to darkness.