Private 10 - Suspicion Read Online Free PDF Page B

even disappeared for a couple days without telling anyone. But perhaps I was wrong about her. Was it possible the Ryans were to blame?
    "You wanna head back?" Sawyer asked.
    I looked up the beach at Noelle. She was watching us from behind her big black sunglasses, keeping an eye on me as promised. I wanted to run over there and tell her what Sawyer had just told me, but I hesitated. What if she said I was crazy? What if she took Paige's side? I so didn't want to deal with being talked down to again. Part of me wanted to stick close to her, simply because I always felt safe when Noelle was around, but I felt safe here, too. If anything, I felt more comfortable with Sawyer than I did with pretty much anyone else on the island. Not only did he believe my story, but he was actually trying to help me. Going against this stupid "since zygotes" St. Barths cult and telling me the truth.
    Besides, not everyone had been through the sorts of losses we had been through. Not Upton, certainly. He thought he was so worldly, but nothing bad had ever happened to the guy. If I was living under a dark cloud, he was basking in the sun. It made him lucky, yes, but when it came down to it, it also made him kind of naive.
    What I really needed right then was to be around someone who understood.
    "Let's walk a little farther," I said.
    "You sure?" Sawyer asked, concerned. "You must be tired."
    "I think exercise is probably good for me," I told him, turning my back on Noelle and starting down the beach again. "But let's talk about something else."
    "Something nontragic?" Sawyer said with a smirk.
    "Nontragic would be perfect," I replied.

SAFE
    "Nothing's going to happen to you in a crowded restaurant," Noelle said as we got out of her BMW, which she'd just parked in front of Shutters, the St. Barths crew's favorite hangout. She handed her keys to the valet and walked around the front of the car. Waiting for us under the colorful awning was a whole host of familiar faces. Dash McCafferty, Noelle's maybe-onagain boyfriend, all polo-shirt preppy and blond, stood between Kiran Hayes and Taylor Bell, all of them watching me with a mixture of encouragement and pity. Kiran was wearing a red sundress, her long dark hair tied back in a loose French braid, while Taylor wore a cute madras dress, her blond curls still wet from the shower or the ocean. Upton was talking to Tiffany Goulbourne, gesturing hugely as he told some story that had her laughing. Sawyer, meanwhile, was standing next to Amberly Carmichael, watching me as she chatted his ear off.
    "We're all going to get a big table in the middle of the patio," Noelle said, hooking her arm through mine. "You know you can trust these guys at least, right? " I cast a suspicious look at Amberly. She blushed as she noticed her bra strap showing under the boat neck of her light blue dress and she quickly tucked it away.
    "Yeah. I guess." I said. But I'd be keeping my eye on the freshman, just in case. If there was one thing I'd learned over the past year, it was that sometimes the most innocent-looking people, the people you never considered, were the most evil people you'd ever encounter. And I already knew Amberly wasn't as sweet as she appeared on the outside. But Noelle was family friends with her, and she was officially in Billings, the dorm I'd be moving back into when we got home, so it appeared I was stuck with her.
    "Hi, Reed! How are you feeling!?" Amberly gushed as we approached. She didn't care about me. She just wanted to feel like she was part of the drama.
    "Fine," I said, striding right past her.
    I might be stuck with her, but that didn't mean I had to be nice. Taylor, Kiran, and Tiffany rushed over to greet me with hugs and cheek kisses and questions and concerns. Everyone was talking at once, and suddenly I felt completely overwhelmed.
    "Come on, people. This isn't a press conference," Noelle said, tugging on my arm. "I'm sure they have our table waiting."
    Everyone immediately backed off.