Marisol shook me awake at eight in the morning.
We weren't having classes today (it was a faculty training day), and I had been looking forward to sleeping in.
"Marisol?" I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes. "What the hell?"
"Kayleigh, get up!" she exclaimed, rushing into my closet. She reappeared beside my bed with an old t-shirt from the frozen yogurt place by my house and a pair of cutoff jeans. "There's a surprise for you!"
I just stared at her, blinking. I had stayed up late last night, rereading Romeo and Juliet in my Shakespeare book because I thought I'd be able to sleep in in the morning. Now, I regretted it.
I tried to turn over to fall back asleep, but she shook me again.
"Don't make me get a bucket of ice water."
When I turned over to glance at her face, she raised her eyebrows and said, "You know I'm crazy enough to do it."
I sighed, took the clothes that she handed me, and made my way into the bathroom. This surprise better be worth it.
Marisol walked me down to the front of the dorm, where a blue Camry was parked. The driver rolled down his window. Tatum.
"What's going on?" I asked Marisol as she continued to the car, her hand holding a tight grip on my arm.
She didn't reply, but walked me up to the window of the car, where Tatum was smiling widely.
"Hey," he said. He was wide-awake and full of energy. My jealousy had to be noticeable.
I shot the both of them a confused glance, but neither of them tried to explain.
"Get in," Tatum told me, gesturing to the passenger seat. I opened the door and slid in, waiting for an explanation, although I knew that I would probably never get one.
Tatum revved the engine and we began to drive, leaving Marisol in front of the dorm. She waved to us as we drove away.
"Are you kidnapping me?" I asked, looking around his car. It was absolutely spotless and well taken care of. It seemed to be a couple years old, but still had the new car smell. His copy of The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet sat on top of the dashboard.
"Yeah," he answered, looking behind him to switch lanes. "Is that okay with you?"
I couldn't help but smile. "I guess. Where are we going?"
"A tour of the city."
"Why?"
"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, sneaking a glance at me, his shaggy hair slightly in his eyes. He wore a loose white t-shirt and dark wash jeans; he was one of those guys that could pull off the effortless look easily.
"Around seven weeks," I told him.
He nodded to himself and focused his eyes back on the road. "So you've been in Boston for seven weeks, and something tells me you haven't actually seen any landmarks or anything. You know, the stuff that Boston is actually known for."
It was like he could read my mind. He was right. And he knew it without me admitting it. "I'm taking you on a tour. I already know that you'll fall in love with the city that I grew up in."
"You grew up in Boston?" I asked, although I wasn't the least bit surprised. There was something about him—not necessarily his clothes or how he talked, but more his manners—that made me believe he was "old money", but I had never been sure of this. I speculated that he probably lived in a mansion in the heart of the city.
"Yep. I wouldn't have preferred to grow up anywhere else. That place has absolutely everything, and the city is the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." His eyes flickered back at me. "Well, one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen."
I could feel my cheeks get hot and my stomach flip. Was he flirting with me?
"It sounds great," I replied, trying to prevent eye contact with him. In Bunting, guys didn't usually flirt with me. And, if they did, they were usually the weird kind of guys who spend all night playing video games in their basements. I wasn't exactly used to extremely cute guys flirting with me. But, hey, there's a first time for everything.
"So, where do you want to go? The harbor, a museum, or a park?"
"Is 'all of the above' an option?"
Tatum smirked at me, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Actually, it's the only option. I was going to take you to all of them. First, we're going to the Museum of Fine Arts. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."
The museum ended up actually being pretty cool.
Actually, the entire city was absolutely magnificent. It surpassed my expectations completely.
All the people we crossed on the street were so kind and understanding, even though it was obvious I has absolutely no idea where I was going. More times than I would care to admit, I would get too enthralled with my surroundings to follow Tatum and would end up getting a bit lost. While I'd search wildly for him, the passing citizens would just go around me, shooting me a welcoming but sympathetic smile. It made me feel a bit less out of place, if that was possible.
Now, we were at the Boston Harbor. We stood at the edge, watching the lights from surrounding buildings bounce off the surface of the water, creating a beautiful illusion.
"Isn't it gorgeous?" I said to Tatum. I definitely felt like a tourist, feeling wowed by all the new people and new scenery.
"Very," he replied as his eyes landed on me, smirking a bit. "Are you having fun?"
I nodded and smiled back at him. Tatum stepped toward me slowly, as if any sudden movements would startle me. Carefully, he put his arm around my shoulders.
"Now," he said, pulling his arm away just a second after he placed it there, "let's go to the Public Garden."
He had already started to walk away when I was just standing there, wondering what in the world had just happened and why he yanked his arm away so quickly. Since I had met him, I couldn't deny our chemistry and the butterflies that would flutter in my stomach every time I made eye contact with him, and I thought he felt the same way. Although something told me that he did, I couldn't help but wonder.
The Public Garden was—as expected—a huge, well-kept garden. It contained a large variety of structures and sculptures, one of which especially interested Tatum. He couldn't take his eyes off of a small fountain.
"Did you ever watch The Jungle Book?" he asked me.
"Of course."
"Remember the panther? This is a sculpture of him. Bagheera. I think that was his name. But The Jungle Book was my favorite movie when I was younger. I owned it on VHS. It was one of those movies I could never get tired of." He glanced over at me, his eyes vulnerable. "Can I tell you something?"
I nodded.
"When I was about five, my dad was on the verge of losing his job, and my parents fought constantly. They didn't really care whether I heard them or not. I would lock myself in this den we had and would watch the movie every time I heard the fighting start. It helped keep my mind off of it. My parents are fine now, but I love to come look at this statue or watch the movie. It makes me calm."
Without thinking, I reached over and folding my fingers around his. He glanced down at me—I was considerably shorter than he was—and smiled.
We walked down this path toward a pond hand-in-hand. When we got to the edge, we sat down by it. Across from us were a group of children and their stressed-out mother trying to contain all of the excitement they exhibited. Tatum and I giggled to ourselves as she chased after a small boy who couldn't be older than five.
"How's your view looking?" Tatum asked, a grin displayed on his face.
"Pretty amazing," I replied, displaying the same smile on my own.
"So is mine." He was staring straight at me. My face immediately felt hot and I tried to look away before he put a hand on my cheek.
Before I even realized what was going on, Tatum leaned in and kissed me. Instantly, I was filled with butterflies. They pounded against the inside of my stomach.
Tatum enveloped my right hand into his left. "I really like you, Kayleigh," he said.
"I like you too."
He smiled, kissed my cheek, and as I looked around me, I realized that this was an adventure all in itself. This was what I wanted, and I couldn't be happier.
I hadn't even stepped into my dorm room before Marisol began to bombard me with questions.
"How'd it go? Did he tell you?" she asked when she saw me in the doorway. She was wearing yoga pants with an oversized t-shirt: her go-to lounging outfit.
"Tell me what?" I asked as I sat down onto my own bed.
"You know," she sang, stretching out her legs on her bed. Her comforter was all rumpled, like usual. Marisol refused to clean up after herself, usually ending in me cleaning her side up a bit so it wouldn't take away from my side. "That he likes you."
"Oh, yeah. He did mention something like that." When Marisol smirked, I knew that she had been aware of the date the entire time. Actually, she probably gave him the idea. "You knew."
"You think Tatum can come up with a successful plan for a date by himself?" Marisol asked me, laying her head against her stack of four pillows beside her. Marisol slept with no less than seven pillows.
I laughed and reached under my pillow for my Shakespeare. As I cracked it open, Marisol asked, "So, what do you think happened to Vivienne Aldridge?"
This question slightly caught me off guard. First, we had been talking about my date with Tatum and somehow the conversation quickly switched to a possible murder mystery. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't really know," Marisol said with a shrug. "I've been thinking about it a bit. I mean, I guess it's possible she killed herself, but even the police don't think that. But what if she died because she knew something? Like, there must be a reason. Right?"
"I imagine so. I feel like someone killed her, but I haven't got an idea who," I replied. There was no way I could read and talk about this at the same time, so I closed the book. "Do you think Carlisle still has the file?"
Marisol nodded. "I'm sure of it. If I know anything about Carlisle, it's that if she's got something that she thinks is of value, she will have a hold on it until someone somehow pries it from her hands. And she's much stronger than she looks."
Carlisle definitely seemed like the type of person to do that. "What if she gets caught with it?"
"She won't," Marisol said confidently. "If she doesn't want to get caught, she won't."
I didn't ask anymore questions, because, somehow, I knew this was true.
"I can't hold onto this file anymore. It feels too dangerous."
Carlisle had assembled all of us back onto the boat. She was standing up on the boat, one hand holding her leather messenger bag, the other holding the file.
"And whose fault is that?" Lindsay said with a smirk.
Carlisle rolled her eyes. "There's absolutely no way I can sneak this back into the police station without getting caught. I need to get rid of it."
"Rip it up," Marisol said.
"Burn it," I offered.
"Throw it in the lake," Aspen suggested.
Carlisle pointed right at Aspen and maintained eye contact with her as she threw it into the water. It floated at first, but as it began to soak up the water, it slowly swam down toward the bottom.
"Carlisle!" Lindsay exclaimed, holding onto the side of the boat as she looked into the water. "Are you crazy?"
"I told you, I can't hold onto it anymore. I felt uneasy carrying it around with me, like someone could look through my bag and see it."
"So you throw a police file into the water. You literally just ruined law enforcement property. I don't think you understand how much trouble you could get in."
"I can't get in any trouble now. I haven't got it. No one besides us knows that I ever had it, and I don't expect you guys to tell anyone." Carlisle glared at each one of us individually. "Now, it's nowhere to be found, and you guys have absolutely no idea where it's at. Got it?"
"Got it," everybody but Lindsay and I answered in unison. How the heck did I get myself wrapped up into defying law enforcement?
"Now, we're done. I can't handle this anymore. Let's just forget we were ever interested in this case or knew anything about it."
And with that, we were headed back toward the shore in complete silence.