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me, but not enough, not like before. Because now mingled with that reassurance was the nagging sense of betrayal.
    He motioned to the front bank of seats, and I followed him like a robot, sitting with my back to the shark tank in the rear of the plane. I wedged my hoodie under my leg. It was a Juicy knockoff, and I braced for the scorn I was sure that would elicit.
    I ran my finger along the hard edge of the iPod hidden in the pocket. I’d need to figure out how to stash the thing more securely without it slipping out and clattering to the floor. In my jeans, maybe.
    Ronan claimed the seat next to mine, and I wasn’t sure if my jangly feeling was relief or anger. The girls’ disdain radiated at my back. I felt duped. And, well, jealous.
    â€œI have no money, you know.” I spoke to him in a low hiss. I would not let those girls overhear our conversation. “Like, to pay? Whatever this special school is you’re taking me to, I can’t afford tuition.”
    The gorgeous, uniformed attendant buckled herself into her jump seat. She gave him a mysterious nod. It felt like a stab in the back, and my cheeks blazed with irrational embarrassment.
    He buckled his seat belt. Defiant, I didn’t touch mine. I contemplated hopping up and escaping through the emergency exit.
    Ronan reached across and buckled me in. The hot sweep of his fingers on my thighs made my breath catch. Kept me glued to my seat.
    â€œWe know you have no money,” he said simply.
    â€œWe?” I asked, my voice cracking.
    The overhead lights flicked off, then on, then off again as the plane hummed to life.
    I fought not to panic. What had I expected, getting into a zillion-dollar private jet with a stranger? “Who’s the we ?” I repeated.
    The plane eased forward. I looked out the window, watching the tarmac begin to roll beneath us.
    He answered only, “Think of it as a scholarship.”
    We picked up speed, and I had to flick my eyes to follow the horizon whooshing by in the distance. Horror bloomed, a sickening pit in my belly. There was no going back.
    I stared at Ronan’s profile. I shouldn’t have let him convince me to come on board. Why had I listened? I wasn’t naive, not by a long shot. Nor was I a girly girl, falling for whichever cute guy looked my way. What was it about him? What had I been thinking?
    I studied him. He was a guy’s guy, with a rugged, dimpled chin. A faint haze of dark stubble dusted his jaw. He’d convinced me with those stares, those touches. I willed him to look at me, to make me feel better again.
    Doubts seized me. On the surface, he was out of my league. What would he want with me? I was smart, but lots of people were. I skimmed my eyes down, taking in my chipped purple nails and faded jeans. I knew guys went for blond hair, but there had to be more to it than that.
    I clenched my hands, forcing myself to think. “Had you tracked me down before we met at the registrar’s?” I’d fantasized he’d simply seen me and swooned. But this scenario—this special school, this scholarship , how he knew my name before I told him—implied otherwise. “So it’s not that you saw me in the registrar’s office and, I don’t know, just . . . knew?”
    He shook his head. Mutely. Maybe even regretfully. “Your name appeared in our system.”
    Their system? How had my name gotten into a system ?
    I thought of all the Florida universities that’d offered me full rides and got a clue. “Did you get my name from Bright Futures?” Our state scholarship program had always sounded to me more like a Scientology pamphlet than a grant.
    â€œAye, your name did pop up.” There was something colder in his voice. His eyes no longer glimmered with suggestion. Why wasn’t he giving me one of his looks? One of those brushes of his hand?
    â€œWhy me?” I gripped my armrests, not knowing if I wanted the answer.