My internal radar indicated that Poe had left the dining room, and soon after, the girls followed suit, heading back to our semi-clean cabin to finish surveying the damage and make plans for tomorrow, since a yacht trip was clearly off the table. (The regular meeting had been usurped by the emergency summit, and no one had any interest in returning to the stuffy tomb that night.) I found I was too antsy to sit, though, so I grabbed my towel. “I’m going to take a shower.” My allotted daily ten-minute shower.

Clarissa looked up from the remains of her purse, which, if not ruined by the paint, had definitely been destroyed by a thorough if unproductive scrubbing. “Wait for one of us. You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone at night.”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to the compound.”

“But you have to walk through the woods.”

“Jesus, Clarissa. Let the poor girl take a shower alone.” Demetria rolled over and glared at the ceiling.

And with that, I stepped out into the night. Though as soon as I passed beyond the circle of light cast by the cabin windows, I shivered. Maybe Clarissa was right.

No. That was silly. There were no intruders. I didn’t care what Poe said about someone targeting me. Those slurs had been written about all four of the Diggirls. And I’d seen Kadie playing Monopoly in the dining hall when we’d left, so I was safe. Yet the deeper I walked into the woods, the more my ears strained for every bit of sound. Every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs. Even the sound of the shells crunching beneath my feet gave me the creeps. There had, after all, been that campfire, though Ben insisted it was more than a week old.

Nevertheless, I was practically running by the time I reached the compound yard. Yellow lights shone from all the windows of the main house, from the boys’ cabin, and even from a tiny porch light over the entrance to the tomb. Salt hadn’t turned off the generators yet, but the shower house was dark. Natch.

Inside, it was cool and shadowy, and the fluorescent bulb I flipped on was of the variety that gave out only a dim, flickering, violet-tinted swath of illumination. Horror movie lighting. Perfect.

A quick wash later, I was wrapping up in the towel when I did hear something outside the window. A definite footstep, then a few more. The door opened.

“Hello?” I called. It was just someone else looking for a late-night shower. Surely. I pushed the curtain aside and tiptoed into the changing area. Maybe they were scared, too.

I tried again. “Hello? It’s Amy here.”

A figure stepped from the shadows. “I know.”

I didn’t have time to draw breath before hands clamped down on either side of my face and I was pushed roughly against the wall. Fingers tangled in my hair, protecting my skull from the tile behind my head.

“Jamie…” I cried out, as he pressed his mouth to mine.

Poe lifted his head. “Aww, you called me Jamie.”

“I don’t have that much money left,” I said, and pulled him close.

The wall was cold against my wet back, and the knobby weave of the towel cut into my breasts and rubbed hard against my belly and thighs. The fact that, except for said towel, I was completely naked didn’t bother me at all. Poe was dressed in slacks and a tee, and I twisted my hands in the fabric of the shirt, balling my fingers into fists as if I could tear it from his shoulders. His kisses were fast and frenetic, moving from my lips to my throat and back again, and he supported all of my weight between his body and the wall. I hooked my ankle behind his knee and arched my back.

He moaned a bit into my mouth and I almost lost it, then and there. This was beyond ridiculous.

1) We were in the shower house. The very open, very public shower house.

2) We were not at the point where he should be kissing me in a towel.

3) We shouldn’t be getting to that point, ever, what with all the bickering and general not-getting-along.

4) Being stalked is not generally one of my turn-ons.

But my body responded to none of that as much as it responded to the way Poe was sucking stray droplets of water off my collarbone. I sank a bit on the wall, which put the rest of my body into a very interesting position in relation to his thigh.

Okay, this was swiftly getting out of hand. How recently had I promised to instill a moratorium on the Y chromosome? “Wait, wait,” I gasped.

He pulled away, doing a bit of gasping of his own.

I tightened the knot on my towel, since I wasn’t sure what else to do with my hands. “What the hell? What was that?”

He smiled, a smirk so wolfish that I thought for a second he’d been taking lessons from George Harrison Prescott. “I wanted to make sure. That this afternoon wasn’t a dream.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know that now.”

“But this is—what are we doing?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted.

“All we did today was fight. Fight and make out.”

“One more thing than we usually do.”

“That doesn’t work for me,” I said. “I’ve spent the whole afternoon so confused.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“Well, you’re not helping. What was that thing in the tomb?”

“What thing?”

I rubbed my head. My hair was in mats. “You know. The plate thing.”

Recognition dawned on his shadowed face. “It was a joke.”

“You don’t make jokes.”

“You laughed. I wanted to make you laugh.” He gave a little self-mocking sigh, as if the very idea of going out of his way to amuse me baffled him as well. “I wanted to make you look at me. You’d been ignoring me all day.”

Ha! I almost shouted it. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Up against the wall, once again. And oh my Persephone, it was marvelous. But once again I pushed him away. You know, after a bit.

“We need to talk,” I insisted, one hand holding up my towel, the other warding him off.

“I object to that plan on several levels.”

“No. We need to talk about this.” I hesitated, took a deep breath. “Before it can continue.”

Now he looked interested. “What shall I tell you? That I spent the entire day thinking about the many ways I messed up out there on the beach? I mean, you threw yourself at me and I still fucked it up.”

“I did not throw myself at you,” I exclaimed, appalled. “Take that back.”

“Done.” He smiled down at me, pushed some hair out of my face, and then shocked me anew. “And then, this evening…it’s been one too many things happening to you recently.”

“This happened to all of the Diggirls.”

“Being called a slut or having your computer trashed is not the same as a death threat. And that’s what you got. A death threat. You, Amy. Not the rest of them. On top of yesterday, on top of this whole semester…”

“That was Dragon’s Head.”

“What if this is Dragon’s Head?”

“It’s not.”

“And you know that how?”

Because I trusted that Felicity would keep her word. She’d promised Brandon she’d stop. If he chose her. And he did, but it had nothing to do with me. He chose her because he loved her. He loved her, and he did not love me anymore. I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes before Poe could see them. He’d already seen me cry too much over another boy. “Do you really think they’d devote their last Spring Break to tormenting me?”

“Sounds like a pretty decent time to me. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”

I pursed my lips. “Define ‘torment.’”

He looked almost ready to grin at that one, but clearly wasn’t finished with the lecture. “Someone’s on this island, Amy, and you’re way too visible. To the patriarchs, to the conspiracy theorists, to Dragon’s Head. And yeah, you’re the one I worry about. I’m sure the others are lovely girls—except Jenny, who needs to be taken down a peg or two—but you’re the one…”