Laughter sounded from the other side of the picnic grounds, and Ali looked up. A group of seniors stood on the grass, pantomiming one of the duel scenes from the play. Ian wielded an imaginary sword. Eric Kahn, Noel’s ninth-grade brother, laughed raucously. Spencer was gone.
Suddenly desperate to be away from Hanna, who’d witnessed a brief chink in her armor, Ali grabbed her Polaroid camera, jumped up from the table, and sauntered over to Ian and the others before Hanna could ask where she was going.
“Hey, Ee,” Ali said, giving him a sly, flirty smile.
Ian paused from his pretend-duel and smiled back. “Hey.” He pushed a lock of blond hair off his forehead. “I didn’t know you were coming to this.”
“I’ve been here the whole time,” she said, tilting her hips.
Ian smiled and moved a little closer to her. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yep.” Ali held up the camera, the knot in her gut slowly unfurling. “Can I get a picture of the two of us?”
“Sure,” Ian said, and wrapped his arm around Ali’s shoulders. Ali held the camera out at arm’s length and snapped a photo. The machine whirred and grumbled, then spat a white photo out the bottom. Slowly, the image filled in. Ali’s face looked model-perfect. And the way Ian tilted his head toward her made him look like her boyfriend.
Ian examined the picture, too. “You look gorgeous,” he said.
A thrill ran through Ali. “You do, too,” she answered. When she tilted her chin up, she was surprised to see Ian’s face right there, almost like he wanted a kiss. But she didn’t want Ian—that was Spencer’s weird thing. Which made her think of her plan to win over her friends again. And that gave her an idea.
She pulled away and gave Ian a long look. “I know someone who likes you.”
Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”
“Spencer.”
Ian blinked, perhaps thinking Ali was going to say it was her. “Spencer Hastings?” He laughed. “Okay.”
“Would you kiss her?”
He stared at her like she was crazy. “That seems a little dangerous.”
Ali wanted to snort. It was amazing how Ian didn’t flat-out refuse, because he had a girlfriend. She lowered her chin and made puppy-dog eyes. “Please? She would love it, Ian. She has a thing for you bad.”
A pleased smile spread across Ian’s face. He pretended to think. “How about this. If I give a kiss to Spencer, then I get a kiss from you.”
“Okay,” Ali said, shrugging. A kiss for Ian Thomas was hardly the worst thing in the world. It would certainly be something to brag to Cassie and the others about. “But you have to really kiss Spencer, okay? Not just a little peck on the cheek. Kiss her like you mean it.”
“You’ve got a deal,” Ian said, holding out his hand to shake. When Ali did, he let his fingers touch the inside of her palm, and her insides tingled a little. Ian might have been skeevy, but he was gorgeous.
She started back to where her friends were sitting, feeling a million times more optimistic than before. Once Spencer knew that Ali got Ian to kiss her with a snap of her finger, she’d be so grateful and impressed that she’d never disobey Ali again. But as she passed an old oak tree, she heard an odd, high-pitched giggle. She stopped and looked around, listening. There was someone sitting on the top of one of the picnic tables, staring at her with hard, narrowed eyes.
Melissa. And by the look on her face, it seemed like she’d heard every word Ali and Ian had said.
11
BANG, BANG, YOU’RE IN LOVE
The following day, Ali stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom of Henry’s Paint Ball and Laser Tag, an indoor/outdoor boy extravaganza on the edge of Rosewood. Nick had wanted this to be their first date, and though Ali normally balked at the idea of paintball, she was willing to do anything to snag and keep the boy who’d spurned her twin—even put on the ugly blue paintball jumpsuit. She smoothed her hands over the baggy fabric, then tied a neon-pink J. Crew belt around her waist. That made it look a little better.
“Ali?” a voice called when she stepped out of the bathroom.
Ali’s heart did a flip. Nick leaned against the check-in booth, looking gorgeous despite the fact that he was in a jumpsuit, too. His piercing blue eyes stared at her and only her. Dimples appeared at the corners of his smile. She bounded up to him as coolly as she could, resisting the urge to squeal.
“Hey,” she said, grinning.
Nick gestured to the paintball area, an obstacle course of bushes and bulwarks, providing places to hide. “You ready?”
“Absolutely,” Ali answered. But when Nick passed her a gun, she balked. It was huge.
Nick giggled. “You don’t have to act like a girl around me. I remember you kicking butt on paintball day at camp.”
Ali clutched the gun to her chest and stood up straighter. She’d never played paintball in her life, but Nick couldn’t know that. She peered at the other kids playing in the field, shooting out from behind the bushes to tag their enemies. She’d hung out with enough boys to know that there were two teams; the object was to capture the yellow flags that hung from the fence across the wide expanse of grass. How hard could it be? “Let’s rock,” she said.
As they traipsed across the field, Nick leaned into her. “So what’s up in Alison DiLaurentis’s world?”
“Not too much,” Ali said as they crouched behind a bush. She wasn’t about to tell him the truth—like about her visit to the mental hospital, for example. “How about you?”