The overhead lights flicked off, then on, then off again as the plane hummed to life.
I fought not to panic. What had I expected, getting into a zillion-dollar private jet with a stranger? “Who’s the we?” I repeated.
The plane eased forward. I looked out the window, watching the tarmac begin to roll beneath us.
He answered only, “Think of it as a scholarship.”
We picked up speed, and I had to flick my eyes to follow the horizon whooshing by in the distance. Horror bloomed, a sickening pit in my belly. There was no going back.
I stared at Ronan’s profile. I shouldn’t have let him convince me to come on board. Why had I listened? I wasn’t naive, not by a long shot. Nor was I a girly girl, falling for whichever cute guy looked my way. What was it about him? What had I been thinking?
I studied him. He was a guy’s guy, with a rugged, dimpled chin. A faint haze of dark stubble dusted his jaw. He’d convinced me with those stares, those touches. I willed him to look at me, to make me feel better again.
Doubts seized me. On the surface, he was out of my league. What would he want with me? I was smart, but lots of people were. I skimmed my eyes down, taking in my chipped purple nails and faded jeans. I knew guys went for blond hair, but there had to be more to it than that.
I clenched my hands, forcing myself to think. “Had you tracked me down before we met at the registrar’s?” I’d fantasized he’d simply seen me and swooned. But this scenario—this special school, this scholarship, how he knew my name before I told him—implied otherwise. “So it’s not that you saw me in the registrar’s office and, I don’t know, just . . . knew?”
He shook his head. Mutely. Maybe even regretfully. “Your name appeared in our system.”
Their system? How had my name gotten into a system?
I thought of all the Florida universities that’d offered me full rides and got a clue. “Did you get my name from Bright Futures?” Our state scholarship program had always sounded to me more like a Scientology pamphlet than a grant.
“Aye, your name did pop up.” There was something colder in his voice. His eyes no longer glimmered with suggestion. Why wasn’t he giving me one of his looks? One of those brushes of his hand?
“Why me?” I gripped my armrests, not knowing if I wanted the answer. The leather was as soft as it looked. “I mean, I can’t be the only kid who got a perfect score on her SATs.”
“But you are the only student with perfect SATs and a father with a history of domestic assault.”
Of course. Daddy Dearest. There’d be all sorts of information about him, me, us in the school system, with Social Services, in the Orlando Criminal Justice database.
I wrenched my shoulders back. I’d be more than what Daddy Dearest had made me. “So, how’d you find those two?” My voice came out sharp as I gave a sneer and a nod behind us. “Are they some of Florida’s brightest lights, too?”
“No, Annelise. I said the other girls were gifted. You’re the only genius.” Something softened in his face as he delivered the news, like it was something for me to be proud of.
I gulped convulsively, thinking I might sick up all over the beige Gulfstream rug. Abruptly, I began to fumble around my seat, beneath it.
“What is it?” he asked. I thought I saw concern flicker in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, making me doubt it’d ever been there.
And why would he need to show sympathy? Ronan had gotten me on the plane, and now I was on my own. Again.
How had he done it? How had he duped me? It wasn’t drugs—he hadn’t given me anything to drink. It was like he’d mesmerized me with that stupid accent. I felt like a total idiot. A cute guy paid me some attention, and I fell over myself, following him to God knew where. Idiot.
The blood drained from my face. I wondered if I looked as queasy as I felt.
I felt like more of a freak than ever. If I’d been chosen because I was smart, why were those other girls here? I was proficient in a few languages and had aced AP calc in ninth grade. Their gifts were probably Varsity Hotness and an uncanny ability to torment nerdbots like me.
The plane slowed, turned onto the runway for takeoff. There was a tugging in my gut as it lurched forward. The sight of tarmac skimming by made my head spin with vertigo.
I breathed through my clenched teeth, frantically running my hand along the gleaming wood panel at my elbow, searching for a hidden compartment. “Don’t they have any of those airsick-bag things?”
I felt his hand on my arm, and froze. Despite his treachery, a tiny part of me willed his touch to warm me once more.
“Annelise,” he said, and his husky accent was gentle. I felt that familiar warmth spread from his fingertips, and the tight coil squeezing my chest loosened. “Your gift isn’t simply a high IQ. You are more than that.”
“Right.” I leaned back against the headrest and shut my eyes. More than that? Really? More than a weirdo? More than a hopeless social case?
I thought of the girls in the seats behind me. I had to swallow the sourness in my throat. If I’m more than that, what are they?