In case there was any confusion, the big reveal in the last chapter was that Emily and Hanna are, in fact, alive. But the questions remain: if they didn't die, why is Spencer so heartbroken, having panic attacks and pretending that they DID die? You won't find that out for a while, but I hope this chapter gives you some much awaited answers. Enjoy!

That night, Harper weaved through the thick crowd of people at the Alpha house, the sour smell of booze wafting in her nostrils. She made her way up the stairs slowly, her heart beating faster and faster with each step. This was it. She was going to see him again. She was going to see his face clearly. She would finally know his name. And most importantly, she couldn't wait to give him the gift she got him.

She was here alone this time. Aria was too afraid to come back here after what happened last week, and Spencer was still sick in bed. She felt more than a little bit guilty for leaving Spencer, but Melissa was the most attentive nurse anyone could ask for. When Harper had slipped in her room to change, Melissa was doting over Spencer like she was a newborn baby.

Harper was nervous as she knocked on the door of the room where she found Aria, where she met him that night. She prayed he would answer, prayed he would open the door. She prayed that she would see him again.

There was no answer, and Harper's stomach sunk. He said he'd be here. "The Alpha party next Friday night." Did he mean the following Friday? What if he was standing her up? Harper swallowed nervously, and she opened the door just a crack and whispered in, "Hey? You here?"

"Yup," he answered. "Come in." Harper walked inside to find the lights still off, the boy sitting down in the corner of the room. He was casually sprawled out on the floor as if he was there only to wait for Harper to arrive.

"Why didn't you answer when I knocked?" asked Harper as she closed the door. She took a few steps in and stared at him.

"I wanted to see if you'd come in anyways," he said, flashing her a smile as he stood up to greet her. Her heart fluttered, but she could only see his face when she squinted.

"It's so dark in here," said Harper, flicking on the lights.

"Turn them off," he said. "I don't want anyone to come up here."

"Well, I'm here," said Harper as she turned the lights off again. She didn't even get one good look at his face. She could barely remember it; she had been so wasted that night. She was dying to see it, to see every inch of it.

"Well, except for you. I like to be alone."

"Why?"

The guy looked up at her. "Well, I don't like most people in general."

"Why not?" asked Harper. "There are a lot of good people."

"Yeah," he said, standing up and walking towards her. "But there are a lot more bad people. And I've met my fair share, believe me."

"What kind are you?" whispered Harper, taking another step towards him. For the first time, she noticed that he was actually towering over her. He was tall, muscular. . . . HOT. Even through his shirt, she could tell that he was RIPPED. "What kind of person? Good or bad?"

"Well," he whispered, taking a step closer, "That's up to you. A lot of people think they know already, but I'll let you figure that out by yourself."

Harper nodded. That was pretty ominous. She wasn't sure what to say now that he was here, in front of her. She had been dreaming of this moment for days, but now she was completely tongue tied. He stared at her smiling for a few moments before he whispered, "Why did your parents name you Harper?"

"Literary buffs," Harper responded, grateful for the conversation starter. "They met when they both tried to grab the last copy of To Kill A Mockingbird at a library. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where'd your name come from?"

The boy chuckled. "So, To Kill A Mockingbird," he said with a smile, that warming smile. Changing the topic again, Harper noted. "Harper Lee. It's a good book. They were really into that book at my highschool. We practically spent the whole first semester of junior year on it."

"What's your favorite?" asked Harper, staring into his eyes.

"The Catcher in the Rye," he answered immediately. "My girlfriend used to tutor me in French, and she gave me a copy of it in French when we first met. I've read it about a hundred times since then."

"Girlfriend?" Harper whispered. The words hit her like a bullet in the heart. He had a girlfriend? What was Harper even doing here? Why would he invite her back here if he was with someone? She thought he was flirting! Or. . . was she reading this situation completely wrong?

"Well, ex-girlfriend," he corrected. "We've been broken up for months."

Hope surged through Harper's heart. That made her feel SO much better. "Does she go to school here?"

"Um . . . yeah, she does," he said, trying not to blush.

"Is it hard going to school with her? Seeing her in class?"

"Well, no," the guy admitted. "I . . .uh. . . I've never see in her class because I don't actually go to school here."

"You don't?" Harper whispered.

"No, the boys in the fraternity hired me to do repair work up here. I get room and board until it's finished. This is actually my bedroom." He pointed over to a backpack and sleeping bag in the corner. "That's all I have."

"Oh," Harper whispered. He honestly didn't have a room? He was already working for a living, with only a small back pack of possessions? Who WAS this boy?

"That reminds me, I got you something." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small gift wrapped in colored tissue paper. She had used a silver ribon to tie a little bow around the small bundle. Her heart sped up as she passed it to her. "This is a copy of my room key," she whispered. "If you ever want to see me again somewhere more private, then you can come find me." She swallowed. Was this too weird? Would he think she was being to clingy?

"Thanks," he said shyly, grabbing the key. He smiled brightly at her said, "I'll use it, I promise." And he did. He did use it, a few days later. Just not for what she thought he would.

"I got it for you cause. . . I want to see you again," she said, trying not to blush. "Do you want to. . . hang out somewhere else? Maybe grab dinner somewhere?"

For a moment, Harper thought he looked unsure. But suddenly, the boy nodded, smiling. "I'd love too."

Harper could feel her heart surge when he said that. Yes, she thought silently. YES. She couldn't wait to tell Aria and Spencer.

A loud noise from downstairs broke the silence between them. "Do you want a drink?"

"I'd love a drink," said Harper. She needed to unwind; her heart felt like it was about to explode.

"I'll be right back," he said, smiling shyly. "I'll go grab us a few beers. Stay here." Harper nodded, and the boy left to go downstairs. But as soon as he was good, Harper began to search the room. There HAD to be something in here that said his name on it.

She couldn't date this boy, this amazing boy, and not know his name.

Soon, she ran over to the big backpack in the corner of the room. His name had to be in it SOMEWHERE. She opened it up and pulled out nondescript things: T-shirts, a hoodie, socks, a toothbrush, some deodorant. Nothing special. She searched the tags of the clothing to see if he had written his name on it, but there was nothing.

She kept digging in the bag until she reached the bottom. At the very bottom of the bag was a book, torn and tattered. Harper pulled it out and looked it the cover. It was in French, and she was a Spanish student, so she didn't understand a word. She flipped through the pages a few times and saw the name Holden, so she knew that it had to be the French copy of Catcher in the Rye that his girlfriend bought him.

Harper sighed as she flipped through the pages. Why would he still hang onto this if he they were broken up? Did he. . . still have feelings fer her?

No, thought Harper. He can't. He just said he'd go out with me.

Suddenly, the question left harper's mind as she flipped to the inside cover of the book.

"For Toby," it read in pretty, female scrawl. "From S." Toby. That was the boy's name; it had to be.

Toby. There it was, the name she had been seraching for. That was her answer to the greatest question she had; his name was Toby.

"Toby." Harper said the name out loud, seeing how it felt in her mouth. She liked it. It sounded friendly, soft, warm. Instantly, she began to love the name.

She kept digging through the backpack until she found the internal name tag: "Property of T. Cavenaugh," it read.

Toby Cavenaugh. That was the boy's name. Toby Cavenaugh.

His name was Toby Cavenaugh.

Toby Cavenaugh.