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  “When? In the police station?”

  “No! Tessa, you know me.” He leaned toward her, his eyes growing more intent. “I’m not a stranger. We’ve been talking every night.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he continued before she could speak. “You know all those times we were talking about Eric Thorn, and I said some theory about him, and you accused me of projecting? Remember? Well, it turns out I wasn’t projecting, Tessa. I was telling you things about myself. Real things. Stuff I couldn’t tell anyone else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Hating what I do? Feeling trapped? Getting locked into a bad record deal and forced to act like a male stripper? Does any of this ring a bell?”

  She nodded slowly but didn’t answer. For a moment, her eyes went far away, and he thought he might be getting through to her. Then she returned her attention to the comforter’s frayed seams. “But what about all the other stuff?” she asked. “Like you told me how some coworker got stalked. What was that? Just some story to make me feel like we had something in common?”

  “No!” He reached for her arm, but he let his hand drop without making contact. “Tessa, I didn’t even know about Blair. That was true. All of it.”

  She looked up, blinking rapidly.

  “Dorian Cromwell,” he explained. “I was a total wreck last summer after Dorian got killed.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “No, that’s not the point!” Eric’s voice rose, and he took a deep breath to control it. “I just felt like a sitting duck. It only takes one copycat, you know? It’s only a matter of time before the same thing happens again.”

  Her eyes went wide, but her expression softened as she scrutinized his face. “That fangirl in Seattle,” she said. “You said you didn’t sleep a wink after it happened. That was true?”

  He nodded, holding his breath. It took every ounce of self-control not to reach out and touch her face. He could sense her presence beside him now—the sensitive girl he’d fallen in love with over Twitter, not the ice princess from the car ride home tonight. She was still in there, just beneath the surface. He just needed her to thaw a little more…

  Maybe he should show her the tweet he sent before. She clearly hadn’t seen it. Eric reached for the phone in his lap, but his attention was distracted by a flutter of movement in front of him. He sat up in his seat and pointed toward the windshield. “Look!”

  31

  SNOWFLAKES

  Tessa watched in puzzlement as Eric’s whole face changed. In the blink of an eye, his expression went from shuttered darkness to a look of childlike delight. She followed the direction he was pointing and saw the reason why. The night sky had filled with snowflakes, dancing through the air in all directions.

  He reached toward the windshield and touched the glass where one of the snowflakes had stuck. Then he glanced back at her face with a silent question in his eyes. She knew what he was asking. The same question he’d asked her over DM last night. She’d reread that conversation enough times to commit it to memory.

  Taylor: What songs are you hoping Eric will play?

  Tessa H: As long as he does “Snowflake,” I’ll be happy.

  It was strange to think she’d written that to Eric. The person beside her felt like a total stranger—and yet somehow, she knew him well. She’d felt a small jolt of recognition just now when he mentioned Dorian Cromwell. She knew the expression that crossed his face: that glimmer of fear. She’d seen it before in videos. She’d frozen that frame a thousand times. He normally concealed it with a fake smile or a come-hither look straight into the lens. But this time he didn’t bother hiding behind a mask. He let her see the truth.

  Tessa suddenly remembered the rest of what she said to him last night. I just wish someone would write a song like that about me. But he hadn’t, of course. He couldn’t have…

  She didn’t have time to think about it further. She gasped at the sound of his voice beside her—so strange and yet so achingly familiar. Eric skipped over the song’s opening and came in on the second verse.

  The wind, it started whipping.

  It slammed my window shut.

  My snowflake left a teardrop.

  I guess she’d had enough.

  But I won’t forget my snowflake.

  Can’t melt her from my mind.

  I’ll watch here from this window.

  For the love she left behind.

  Tessa listened to his rich, full tenor voice, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes glued firmly to her lap. She felt the gentle pressure of his hand against her elbow, and she shuddered at his touch. Even through the layers of flannel, she could feel his fingers, freezing cold.

  What was she doing out here? She hadn’t meant to stay and talk. She hadn’t even intended to get in the car. Just drop off the blanket and leave.

  “I’ll keep an eye on things,” he’d said when he dropped her off earlier. She had to admit, it was kind of sweet. Especially after the cold shoulder she’d given him on the ride home. Not the kind of behavior she would have expected from a famous pop star meeting a fan. More like something a guy might do for his girlfriend after getting in a fight.

  Tessa shook the thought out of her head. He’s not your boyfriend, she silently reminded herself. He’s Eric Thorn.

  But what was he doing, parked there in her driveway for hours on end? What exactly was he trying to prove?

  He took a breath before he hit the chorus, and Tessa swept a glance in his direction. He looked back at her with fierce determination that sent a pulse of heat rippling through her. She couldn’t bear the scrutiny. She interrupted, her voice terse, before he could let out another note. “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

  “I want to be with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  At his words, the tiny spark kindled stronger. She pressed her palm below her rib cage to smother it. She refused to meet his eyes, but he caught her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Tessa, last night you said you loved me too.”

  She twisted, wrenching free. “I said that to Taylor. Last night I was talking to Taylor.”

  “I am Taylor!”

  “No, but—”

  “Tessa, look.”

  He pulled out his phone, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden flash of blue.

  Twitter.

  Really? After everything that had happened? Tessa couldn’t bear the sight of it. The detective had suspended her account in the police station, and she hadn’t protested. She never wanted to lay eyes on that little bird logo again.

  “Look.” She heard Eric’s voice in her ear, low and raspy. “Please look. Tessa, I need you to see this. Please.”

  Tessa could hear the urgency in his voice. She didn’t know what it meant—what he could possibly need to show her so desperately. She sucked in a deep breath and forced her lids to open. He’d pulled up his own profile, and her eyes fell on the most recent tweet.

  Eric Thorn @EricThorn

  I love you, snowflake. This is real.

  Tessa’s vision blurred. She slammed her eyes closed again and covered them with her hand.

  “Tessa,” he said, pulling at her wrist. “C’mon. Don’t do that. I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry I’m Eric Thorn. But why does that change everything?”

  She didn’t know how to explain it to him. So many words had passed between them—all those months of endless direct messages—and all of it had now been cast in a new light. Different fragments of their conversations kept springing to her mind, and she gave up trying to suppress them. She merely spoke the words aloud, a different set of words that she’d long since learned by heart. “You know what Eric Thorn would see if he ever noticed I existed?”

  Eric peeled her hand away from her eyes, and Tessa cast a quick look at his face. She couldn’t tell if he recognized the quote. The next line would do the trick.

  “How did you put it, exactly?” she asked. “A leech? W
ith no point to my meaningless existence except to suck?”

  “Tessa, don’t.” He rose to his knees in the car seat and grabbed her by both shoulders, forcing her to turn toward him. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t even know you yet!”

  She shrugged beneath his hands. “It was kind of true though. I’m a fangirl. I have a thousand pictures of you on my phone. I started a whole hashtag about you called #EricThornObsessed.”

  “Right,” he said slowly, his eyes boring holes straight through her. “Which I kind of interpreted to mean you were—you know—kind of…maybe…into me?”

  She looked away. “It’s just really embarrassing. Try to imagine how you would feel.”

  “You’re embarrassed because you’re into me?”

  “No,” she said, cringing. “Because I know how you feel about fangirls! Tell the truth. You don’t love us. We’re not snowflakes to you. We’re leeches.”

  He slumped forward and scrubbed his hands across his face. For a long moment, Tessa thought he wouldn’t bother to reply. But he gathered himself again. With a sigh, he turned back toward her. “OK,” he said in a flat voice. “I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep. Loud and clear.” He nodded firmly. “You’re a fangirl. You’re embarrassed. Now get over it.”

  “I can’t just—”

  “Here,” he interrupted. “Give me your phone.”

  “What? Why?”

  He held out his hand. “Just do it. Trust me. Just this once.”

  Tessa wasn’t even sure she’d brought it out here, but she dug into the pocket of her robe, and her fingers closed over the phone’s familiar form. She handed it to him without meeting his eyes. In her mind, all she could think of was the picture on her lock screen—the first visual he’d see, the moment he flicked it on. She’d changed it the other night to the new single cover for “Snowflake”: Eric Thorn, riding a snowmobile, naked to the waist.

  “Please, don’t look at the camera roll,” she whispered.

  “Nah, I’m familiar with what I look like.”

  Tessa didn’t watch him, but she could sense his smirk. She waited for him to make some snide remark. Instead, she felt him thrust something back into her hands. She looked down to see her red leather cell phone case, now empty. “What’s this?” she asked with a frown.

  He didn’t answer. He merely cracked his car door open and chucked her phone into the darkness, as far as he could throw.

  Tessa’s eyes flew open wide. “My phone! What did you just do?”

  “There.” He wiped his hands back and forth to say good riddance. “All gone. No more pictures.”

  “But that’s my phone!”

  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  She looked at him in silence, too stunned to speak.

  “Tessa,” he said, his face dead serious. “It’s really not that complicated. If being my fangirl embarrasses you, then stop being my fangirl. Be something else instead.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like, you could be my girlfriend, for example.”

  He took her hand again.

  “Tessa, I love you. Do you understand that? I’m in love with you. I’m freezing my ass off in your driveway for you. I’m sitting here singing a whole sugary-sweet love song that I wrote for you. Just for you. Not for anyone else. The song isn’t called ‘Snowflakes,’ plural. It’s ‘Snowflake.’ Just one snowflake. How many more ways do you need me to say it?”

  She ducked her head.

  He squeezed her hand. “Look at me.”

  “I can’t,” she said. She could feel her heart thumping. Her throat was starting to constrict. She knew she should do her breathing exercises, but the Eric five count wouldn’t have its usual effect.

  She didn’t want to have a panic attack, sitting here in front of him—or worse, that terrifying blankness that had happened earlier with Blair. That nothingness when her mind switched off, like a cell phone running out of batteries. Tessa didn’t know where she went exactly when that feeling overtook her, but the mere idea of it made her break out in a sweat. She dug her nails into her palm, focusing on the sensation to keep herself anchored in the here and now. “I’m such a mess,” she said. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

  “Yes, I do.” His voice was strong, unflinching. “Tessa, look at me. I know you. I know your weaknesses, and you know mine.” He edged closer as he spoke. “And I also know how special you are. That’s what I remember from the first conversation we ever had. I didn’t know you yet, but I could tell that you were special. And the more you let me see you, the more I couldn’t get enough. Because what I saw inside you has got to be”—his voice cracked, but he plowed on—“has got to be the bravest, strongest, most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

  Tessa covered her face with her hands. Her throat felt thick, but not from panic. She recognized the ache that came from trying to hold back tears. “Stop,” she begged. “Please stop!”

  “Why? You’re embarrassed?”

  “No.”

  “What, then?”

  She whispered the answer, barely louder than a breath. “I’m scared.”

  Eric’s face relaxed. He took her hand and cradled it gently as he began to sing again.

  Just one snowflake.

  She thought that no one cared.

  Perfect snowflake,

  I’ll catch you. Don’t be scared.

  Tessa knew she shouldn’t look at him, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to see. She gazed helplessly at those ice-blue eyes, that chiseled jawline, those perfect lips… She knew his face better than her own, and yet he wore an expression she didn’t recognize. His cheeks had turned a shade darker. His eyes were hooded but soft. She’d never seen him look that way before. Not once, in all the screenshots she’d collected.

  She realized what it meant: the answer to all the questions she didn’t dare to ask. Eric Thorn had never turned that look upon a camera lens. His fans had never seen his face in love.

  He reached out one finger and touched the corner of her mouth. Tessa didn’t realize she had a tear running down her cheek until he made contact with the damp spot. He leaned toward her then and kissed her, softly, his lips just barely grazing hers.

  Tessa gasped at the sensation. His fingers were freezing, but his lips melted a path straight through her icy core. She felt a crack in the numb exterior—a fissure that slowly spread until she crumbled.

  They broke apart, and she looked up. His face was inches from hers, their frosty breath comingling. “You’ll freeze to death out here,” she whispered.

  His arm went tight around her waist as his lips sought hers again. “Maybe,” he whispered back. “But I’ll die happy.”

  Tessa could see him shivering badly though. She pulled away from him again and popped the passenger side door open.

  “Where are you going?” she heard his voice call after her.

  She turned and looked back over her shoulder with a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Come on,” she said, nodding toward the house. “It’s OK now. You can come inside.”

  U.S. DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE

  FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

  OFFICIAL MEMORANDUM

  DATE: 1-03-2017

  FROM: Special Agent Donald J. Peterson, FBI

  TO: Charles D. Foster, Lieutenant, Midland Municipal Police Department

  The Federal Bureau of Investigation asserts investigative authority in the matter of Case ID # 79-SA-1337, pursuant to Title 28, U.S. Code, Section 540A0. We hereby confirm receipt of a total of eleven (11) excerpted fragments from the interrogations conducted by the Midland Municipal Police Department on the night of December 31, 2016. Full data records of the online Twitter history for accounts @EricThornSucks and @TessaHeartsEric have also been obtained at your suggestion. Forensic crime scene analysis is currently underway, and results will be made available to your department forthwith.

  Please find enclosed a transcript of our recent conversation
conducted in the FBI San Antonio Field Office. Thank you for your department’s full and speedy cooperation in this ongoing investigation.

  Case ID #: 79-SA-1337

  TRANSCRIPT OF ELECTRONICALLY RECORDED INTERVIEW

  DATE: January 2, 2017, 12:17 p.m.

  —START PAGE 1—

  AGENT: Lieutenant Foster, thank you for coming in today. As you know, you’re being interviewed as the last known person to speak with the victim in our case. This interview is being recorded.

  FOSTER: I understand.

  AGENT: For the record, I’m Special Agent Donald Peterson with the FBI San Antonio Field Office. Today is January 2, 2017. Could you please identify yourself?

  FOSTER: Lieutenant Charles Foster. I’m an investigator with the Midland, Texas, Police Department.

  AGENT: Thanks, Charles. You were the lead investigator conducting your department’s inquiry into the Blair Duncan–Tessa Hart stalking case. Please describe to me the last time you saw Ms. Hart.

  FOSTER: After the interrogations. I put her in a room with Mr. Thorn.

  AGENT: In the Midland police station?

  FOSTER: Yes, in one of the interrogation rooms. It was consensual. We recorded video footage of their interaction from behind the two-way partition, but unfortunately no audio. I sent you a copy of the tape.

  AGENT: I reviewed it. Can you provide any insight into Ms. Hart’s state of mind that might have led her to strike Mr. Thorn across the face?

  FOSTER: I couldn’t say. Not with any certainty. At the time of the incident, I put it down to shock.

  AGENT: Did Mr. Thorn at any time give you reason to believe he might be fearful of Tessa Hart?

  FOSTER: No, but he appeared paranoid in general. He was clearly concerned about a fan becoming violent. He spoke at some length about the Dorian Cromwell murder case and his concern that a deluded fan might attempt a copycat crime.

  AGENT: A fan, but not Tessa Hart in particular?

  FOSTER: No. It was such a strange dynamic. He didn’t see Ms. Hart as a fan. He came across as a bit delusional himself, in my opinion. To hear him talk, the two of them were in a mutual relationship. He viewed her as his girlfriend. And yet when I interviewed her, she had no idea the person she’d been talking to was him.