Page 64 of Stranded

“Aren’t we pushing it a little close?”

Alph starts up the golf cart with a grin. “I’m a fast driver,” he promises. “Let’s go!”

The whole way home, I’m beaming to myself, because I’m starting to believe this is possible.

I can really be myself, get the boyfriend,andget the dream job. If all goes well tonight, of course… but I believe in myself these days, too.

As we pull around the final corner and speed toward the house, Alph grins breathlessly. “Sorry it’s such a rush. I just didn’t want to interrupt you while you were looking so cute.”

“It’s okay. If wedon’tmake it back to the ferry on time, you bring me straight back here and spend that hour making it up to me,” I tell him, boldly lifting my chin.

Alph swallows hard and tears his gaze off me to focus on the road. His nostrils flare, and he shifts against the bench a little bit as I grin.

As he arrives, I lean in and whisper, “In every… possible… way.”

Then we both hop off, sprinting for the porch stairs.

I beat him there, fumbling for my keys to unlock it.

“It would have been faster going in the back,” Alph murmurs.

I giggle. “I want you to remember that for later.” Finally, I dig out the key from my inside pocket to unlock the door.

I take the stairs two at a time… and then I skid to a halt.

“Ronan,” Alph hisses from the front landing. “Ronan, stop!”

I already know what he’s trying to say. My brain is screaming it at me:something’s wrong.

I skid to a halt and stare, half-aware of Alph rushing downstairs.

It’s too cold in here.

And the living room mess isn’t the same as I left it last night.

My sewing machine is on the floor, smashed into pieces. The white boards are face-down, and the drawings I carefully Blu-tacked onto the wall… ripped into shreds.

“What the—” I clap a hand over my mouth as I slowly back up, staring at the carnage.

But it gets so much worse.

My two bright yellow suitcases were carefully packed with my whole semester’s work—everything I need for the runway showcase tonight. When we left for the restaurant, they were sitting right here.

And they’re gone.

“Alph!” I scream, sprinting down the stairs. I fling myself around the corner of the landing to the second flight of stairs, and straight into the middle of his apartment.

He’s just standing there with his jaw hanging open, staring at his front door.

It’s wide open.

I plop my ass heavily on the stairs, dropping my head into my hands.

That’s it, then.

Now I know how—and I’d be willing to stake my life onwhotook my stuff. But with no idea where they are now, I don’t have a snowflake’s chance in hell of getting those suitcases back.

Tonight, or at all.

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