As we drive down the highway, I can't help but notice how comfortable Connor is with my driving my car. It's like he's driven one before.
"I haven't," he says, glancing at me with a smile.
"Well, you're acting like you have," I comment as we pull into the parking lot of the mall. "So, what do you need to buy here? We've already been to three stores."
"Nothing. I was just hoping we could take a break and hang out. Get to know each other more," he says.
"Well, that sucks since I already know everything about you," I say while we walk through the doors on the top floor.
"That's right. You're a fan. Well, then I'll just ask you questions. Who's your favorite in the band?"
"Are you seriously asking me this?" I laugh.
"Of course. I need to know the truth," he says.
"The one that plays an instrument."
"Smart answer. Who's your favorite McDonough brother?"
"Now that, I can answer. Toby. He's the only one that understands." He sits down on a bench, taking my hand and pulling me next to him.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he listens about my past investigations, and he's actually been helping me with this one," I explain.
"Do you have any leads?" he asks.
"A few, but I need to talk to your mom about the people."
"Maybe I could help," he offers. I think about it.
"Okay, we'll try. Um, the first person that we came up with is Patrick Hall," I say, looking at the notebook that pulled out of my backpack.
"I haven't talked to him in a while, but we ended on a pretty good note before he moved," he says, more to himself than me.
"Where did he move?" I ask.
"He moved to New York. His father was promoted, and his mom's job let her work anywhere. They didn't work with my parents."
"Did you guys ever get into a really bad fight before he left?" I ask.
"No, we were very close. I actually helped him when people were making fun of him for being gay. When they were pushing him around and beating him up, I made sure that they stopped, and everything was okay after that," he explains.
"Do you think that maybe he was still being bullied, but he didn't want to tell you because he didn't want you to worry?" I ask.
"No, we told each other everything. Even though he was gay, he said that he didn't like me because I was like a brother. I told him to be completely honest, and that whatever he said wouldn't change how I saw him. We were brothers, and my whole family and my friends accepted him for who he was, so there's no way he would do this."
"Okay. What about Stephanie Benson? Toby said you two had a really bad break-up a few years ago," I say, crossing Patrick off of the list.
"That's possible. For the longest, she stalked me, and it was really bad. She's a year younger than Riley, so we thought it could work out because we didn't think the age difference was that bad. Turns out she was obsessed with the three of us, and she wanted to be the only one that we were in love with. It was pretty much your stereotypical stalker," he tells me.
"Alright, she sounds like my number one suspect so far," I say as my phone starts to ring. I look down and wipe the smile off of my face.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Does this number look familiar at all?" I ask, showing it to him.
"No, why?"
"This cellphone cloned the house phone, so I can listen in on any phone call." I click answer as Mrs. McDonough does the same, bringing the phone to my ear. He doesn't need to hear this.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Joan."
"Who is this?"
"You know, Emily and Connor have gotten really close lately, despite the outburst that Connor had. I saw them at the party last night. They got VERY close." My eyes widen, and Connor cocks an eyebrow at me. I hold up a finger and continue to listen.
"What are you talking about?"
"Yes, Emily. I know about you. I know ALL about you. Don't try figuring out who I am. By the time you know, somebody will be dead."
Click.
I put the phone in my pocket and place my head in my hands after I feel the blood drain from my face. A hand is placed on my back, rubbing small circles to soothe me.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"He knows. He knows about me and my job. I'm dead," I say, fidgeting with my suspenders.
Yeah, I went with a "nerd" look. I'm wearing a black button-up shirt with half way sleeves, tucked into my black skinny jeans, and I'm wearing black Chuck Taylors. I have on white suspenders and a white bow tie. My hair is wavy, and my bangs are pinned back with a little poof.
"Hey, everything will be okay." He looks around and spots something. "How about we use the photobooth to get our minds off of all of this?"
I nod, and he pulls me towards the box. I quickly pay before he can, and I sit next to him on the bench before closing the curtain.
"Ooh, we get to choose a theme," he says.
"Which one do you want?" I ask.
"Um, how about 'I heart being awesome' since you and I are pretty awesome," he says looking at me while snaking his arm around my waist.
"You're a sneaky one. Sure, why not?"
I select that one, and I sling an arm around his neck before the flash goes off. For the second picture, he does his usual Rock On Duck Face while I let my tongue hang out like the stereotypical rocker, my nose scrunched up. The third picture is of us making the monkey face.
When it gets to the last picture, Connor turns my face towards him. He cups it before placing his lips against mine. The flash goes off, but he doesn't stop. It surprises me, but I end up kissing back, hoping that I kiss just like any other girl so he doesn't realize it's me.
He pulls back, and I stare at him in shock. He looks back and forth between my eyes, probably searching for an answer to his question that hasn't been asked yet.
"Lets go check those photos," he says with a smile. I nod before getting out, him following closely behind.
"I hope you don't mind about that last picture. It felt like the right thing to do," he says, shrugging it off like it was nothing.
Of course. How could I have been so stupid?! He didn't do it because he likes me! He did it because it was in the moment, and it felt like the right thing to do, no matter how cheesy it was. Why am I not thinking?!
"It's fine," I say as our slips of photos pop out of the slot. He picks them up and hands one to me.
"For you " he says with a smile. I take it, and he looks at the time on his phone.
"Crap, I need to go to the bank and take some money out before going to the next store."
"What's wrong with your credit card?" I ask.
"Oh, their card readers are broken, so they're waiting for the new ones to ship in," he explains as we walk to the parking garage.
"Oh, that makes sense," I say.
We quickly find my car before driving off to the bank, completely unaware of the car that's been following us since we left the house.
