Perfect (Book Three)

Thirty-Three: Someone Slips Up, Big Time.

First, Lucas gave Hanna a shrunken Rosewood Day sweatshirt and a pair of red gym shorts from his car. "An Eagle Scout is always prepared for anything," he proclaimed.

Second, he led Hanna to the Hollis College Reading Room so she could change. It was a few streets over from the planetarium. The reading room was simply that—a big room in a nineteenth-century house completely devoted to chilling out and reading. It smelled like pipe smoke and old leather bookbindings and was filled with all sorts of books, maps, globes, encyclopedias, magazines, newspaper, chessboards, leather couches, and cozy love seats for two. Technically, it was only open to college students and faculty, but it was easy enough to jimmy your way in the side door.

Hanna went into the tiny bathroom, removed her ripped dress, and threw it into the little chrome trash can, stuffing it in so it would fit. She clumped out of the bathroom, threw herself on the couch next to Lucas, and just...lost it. Sobs that had been pent up inside of her for weeks—maybe even years—exploded out of her. "No one will like me anymore," she said chokingly, between sobs. "And I've lost Mona forever."

Lucas rubbed her hair. "It's all right. She doesn't deserve you anyway."

Hanna cried until her eyes swelled and her throat stung. Finally, she pressed her head into Lucas's chest, which was more solid than it looked. They lay there in silence for a while. Lucas ran his fingers through her hair.

"What made you come to her party?" she asked after a while. "I thought you weren't invited."

"I was invited." Lucas lowered his eyes. "But...I wasn't going to go. I didn't want you to feel bad, and I wanted to spend the night with you."

Little sparkles of giddiness snapped through her stomach. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "Bagging our poker game at the last minute like that, for Mona's stupid party."

"It's okay," Lucas said. "It doesn't matter."

Hanna stared at Lucas. He had such soft blue eyes and adorably pink cheeks. It did matter to her, a lot. She was so consumed with doing the perfect thing all the time—wearing the perfect outfit, picking out the perfect ringtone, keeping her body in perfect shape, having the perfect best friend and the perfect boyfriend—but what was all the perfection for? Maybe Lucas was perfect, just in a different way. He cared about her.

Hanna didn't quite know how it had happened, but they'd settled in on one of the cracked-leather love seats, and she was on Lucas's lap. Strangely, she didn't feel self-conscious that she was breaking Lucas's legs. Last summer, to prepare for her trip with Sean's family to Cape Cod, Hanna had eaten nothing but grapefruit and cayenne paper, and she hadn't let Sean touch her when she was wearing her bathing suit, afraid he'd find her Jell-O-ish. With Lucas, she didn't worry.

Her face moved closer to Lucas's. His face moved closer to hers. She felt his lips touch her chin, then the side of her mouth, then her mouth itself. Her heart pounded. His lips whispered across hers. He pulled her toward him. Hanna's heart was beating so fast and excitedly, she was afraid it would burst. Lucas cradled Hanna's head in his hands and kissed her ears. Hanna giggled.

"What?" Lucas said, pulling away.

"Nothing," Hanna answered, grinning. "I don't know. This is fun."

It was fun—nothing like the serious, important make-out sessions she'd had with Sean, where she felt like a panel of judges was scoring each and every kiss. Lucas was sloppy wet, and overly joyful, like a boy Labrador. Every so often, he'd grab her and squeeze. At one point, he started tickling her, making Hanna squeal and rolled off the couch right onto the floor.

Eventually, they were lying on one of the couches, Lucas on top of her, his hands drifting up and down her bare stomach. He took off his shirt and pressed his chest against hers. After a while, they stopped and lay there, saying nothing. Hanna's eyes grazed across all the books, chess sets, and busts of famous authors. Then, suddenly, she sat up.

Someone was looking in the window.

"Lucas!" She pointed to a dark shape moving toward the side door.

"Don't panic," Lucas said, easing off the couch and creeping toward the window. The bushes shook. A lock began to turn. Hanna clamped down on Lucas's arm.

A was here.

"Lucas..."

"Shhh." Another click. Somewhere, a lock was turning. Someone was coming in. Lucas cocked his head to listen. Now there were footsteps coming from the back hall. Hanna took a step backward. The floor creaked. The footsteps came closer.

"Hello?" Lucas grabbed his shirt and pulled it on backward. "Who's there?"

No one answered. There were more creaks. A shadow slithered across the wall.

Hanna looked around and grabbed the largest thing she could find—a Farmer's Almanac from 1972. Suddenly, a light flicked on. Hanna screamed and raised the almanac over her head. Standing before them was an older man with a beard. He wore small, wire-framed glasses and a corduroy jacket and held his hands over his head in surrender.

"I'm with the history department!" the cold man sputtered. "I couldn't sleep. I came here to read..." He looked at Hanna strangely. Hanna realized the neck of Lucas's sweatshirt was pulled to the side, exposing her bare shoulder.

Hanna's heart started to slow down. She put the book back on the table. "Sorry," she said. "I thought—"

"We'd better go anyway." Lucas sidestepped the old man and pulled out the side door. When they were next to the house's iron front gate, he burst into giggles.

"Did you see that guy's face?" he hooted. "He was terrified!"

Hanna tried to laugh along, but she felt too shaken. "We should go," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want to go home."

Lucas walked Hanna to the valet at Mona's party. She gave the valet the ticket for her Prius, and when he brought it back, she made Lucas look all through it to make sure no one was hiding in the backseat. When she was safely inside with the door locked, Lucas tapped his hand against the window and mouthed that he'd call her tomorrow. Hanna watched him walk away, feeling both excited and horribly distracted.

She started down the planetarium's spiral drive. Every twenty feet or so was a banner advertising the new exhibit. The Big Bang, they all said. They showed a picture of the universe exploding.

When Hanna's cell phone beeped, she jumped so violently, she nearly broke out of the seat belt. She pulled over into the bus lane and whipped her phone out of her bag with trembling fingers. She had a new text.

Oops, guess it wasn't lipo! Don't believe everything you hear! —A

Hanna looked up. The street outside the planetarium was quiet. All the old houses were closed up tight, and there wasn't a single person on the street. A breeze kicked up, making the flag and a jack-o'-lantern-shaped leaf bag on its front lawn flutter.

Hanna looked back down at the text. This was odd. A's latest text wasn't from caller unknown, as it usually was, but an actual number. And it was a 610 number—Rosewood's area code.

The number seemed familiar, although Hanna never memorized anyone's number—she'd gotten a cell in seventh grade and had since relied on speed dial. There was something about this number, though...

Hanna covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God," she whispered. She thought about it another moment. Could it seriously be?

Suddenly, she knew exactly who A was.