Page 24 of Cross My Heart

The handwriting definitely matches, but I can’t figure out what the second note means. I try searching online on my phone, but there’s no match for that phrase.

So, what happened? What are they trying to tell me? And why the mysterious cloak-and-dagger routine?

Did they get cold feet about meeting me, or was it all some elaborate ruse to lure me to the party, so that they could…?

What exactly? Introduce me to the debaucherous British sex scene? Or was the party itself a clue? I can’t imagine my straitlaced sister ever taking part in something like that, but I would have said the same thing about myself, up until a few hours ago.

Saint flashes in my mind again, the way his gaze glittered in the dim light as he watched me touch myself.

‘Deeper… Don’t you dare fucking stop.’

I shudder, and it’s like he’s here in the room with me all over again. Urging me to spread my legs beneath the covers. Tempting me to reach under my nightshirt, and slide my fingers to find my wet heat…

I muffle my moans in the pillows, and relive the pleasure, over and over again until sleep finally claims me.

* * *

“…And then he asked about you, Tessa. Tessa?”

“Hmm? What?”

I snap out of my reverie, blushing, to find that Jia and Kris are looking at me across the table, crammed in the corner of a steamy breakfast café in town on Monday morning. “I said, a guy from my poetry seminar asked about you,” Jia repeats. “He wanted to know if you were seeing anyone.”

“Oh, umm…” I take a gulp of coffee, trying to collect myself. I’ve been a million miles away from reality all weekend, lost in memories of the party. “I… I don’t know,” I reply without thinking.

Does what happened with Saint count as ‘seeing someone’? I mean, I saw plenty of him, after all.

His thick, straining cock…

I find myself giggling and cover it with a cough.

“Youareseeing someone!” Kris exclaims, eyes widening.

“What? No!” I blurt, but it’s too late. They’re both looking at me excitedly, our greasy bacon sandwiches forgotten on the table between us.

“Who is he?”

“How long have you been sneaking around?”

“Does he have any hot friends?”

“Guys, no!” I cut them off firmly. “It’s nothing. Less than nothing. I… saw a guy, from a distance,” I say carefully, “but we’ve never talked. He doesn’t even know who I am.”

At least, I hope he doesn’t.

The thought that Saint might have recognized me behind my mask makes my stomach lurch dangerously—half in fear, and half in reckless anticipation.

“It’s nothing,” I repeat again. “I’m too busy for that kind of thing, anyway. I haven’t dated in… God, it’s years now.”

Since before Wren died.

Jia sighs, clearly disappointed that I don’t have any hot gossip to share. “Me either.”

I arch an eyebrow.

“Dated,” she emphasizes. “Hookups and situationships don’t count.”

“If they did, my numbers would be sky-high,” Kris agrees. “You really haven’t been involved with anyone in years?" he asks me curiously.

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