You're the Reason - J. Nathan Page 0,21

and none of her so-called sisters know a damn thing.”

“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Chantel said. “I have class.” She hurried away and Sydney’s mother watched her go, a blank stare on her face. Her eyes cut to mine. “You know her?”

I nodded. “She’s my roommate.”

She closed her eyes, as if pained by the notion. “Watch that one. She’s a sneak.” Sydney’s mother headed over to a BMW parked against the sidewalk. She pulled open the door and slipped inside. “It was nice to meet you, Sophia.”

“You too.”

She closed her car door and the engine purred to life. I watched as she gave the top of the building one last glance before pulling away.

I sat back down on the sidewalk, my legs shaking beneath me. I couldn’t imagine that poor woman’s grief. I also couldn’t understand how no one knew anything about Sydney’s death. Or, why Valerie and Chantel both reacted strangely to the mention of Sydney Lane.

If there was more to Sydney’s story, like Sydney’s mom believed, I hoped to God it came to light so she could finally have closure.

***

“What the hell was that?” Chantel asked as she stormed into our room that night.

Great. She was still here. I peeked up from my laptop. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. Sydney’s mother. You didn’t tell me you knew her.”

“I don’t. She was standing outside our dorm and something seemed wrong with her, so I talked to her. She’s hurting. And she’s looking for closure.”

“Right. By closing my sorority.”

My eyes widened. That was cold even for Chantel. “You’ve got to know she’s grieving. She’s not seeing clearly. I’m sure she doesn’t want to hurt you guys. She just doesn’t know what else to do.”

“She needs to move on.”

A cold chill rushed through me. Sydney was someone Chantel actually knew. I didn’t even know Sydney, but the way her mother spoke of her made me cry. How could Chantel be so thoughtless?

But what did I expect? Chantel was self-absorbed. Some people were raised to think they were the center of the universe. I’d never be able to relate. I’d been taught by my parents—and Tim McGraw—to be humble and kind. Chantel just didn’t possess those qualities.

Chantel and I were two totally different people. And, despite Chase’s foresight, it was becoming abundantly clear that she and I would never be friends.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Saturday morning my phone buzzed, pulling me from a sound sleep. I reached over and grabbed it, hoping whoever was calling this early on a weekend had prepared themselves for my wrath. I checked the screen. Unknown caller. I dropped it back down, ignoring it.

But it continued to buzz.

I grabbed the phone again and lifted it to my ear. “Hello?”

“You’ve got ten minutes,” a deep voice said.

“Who is this?”

“Get dressed, take care of whatever girls do in the morning, then come downstairs,” Chase said.

I huffed. “Why?”

Dead air filled the line. I checked the screen and the bastard had hung up. What was he up to?

I crawled out of bed and moved to the window. I shielded my eyes from the bright sunlight as I checked the street in front of my dorm. No one was out there—no cars, no people, not even Chase.

Was this some kind of trick?

Was he trying to make some kind of point about me getting into the Uber I thought he’d sent?

Was he setting me up?

I closed my eyes, and thought about what to do next. I could get dressed, go downstairs, and no one would be there. Or, I could stay put and go back to bed and pretend it never happened—like I should have done last weekend.

Grrr. I hated my curiosity.

I went to my closet, grabbed jeans, and a navy hoodie and pulled them on, then slid on my navy Converse. I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth, then I secured my hair in a high ponytail. If this was a joke, I wasn’t about to be caught in my pajamas with bedhead.

I grabbed my phone, tucked some money in my back pocket, and walked downstairs.

Damn him if this was a trick.

Damn him if he was going to show his split personality again.

Damn him for making me curious.

I reached the front door and inhaled deeply. Please don’t make me look stupid. I pushed open the door. Air punched out of my lungs when I found Chase in a backward baseball cap leaned against a red convertible.

I blinked hard, making sure I wasn’t having some kind of Jake from Sixteen Candles dream. “What are