Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) by Ilsa Madden-Mills

murmured. “I don’t think he really cares.”
    Spider nodded. “He’s had a rough time of it. Putting up with me, managing the band—and now Blair. I don’t know how he keeps it together. He’s my best mate, and if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be dead. Or back in rehab.” He sighed. “We didn’t come here just to make movies, you know. Part of the reason he wanted to settle down in LA was to get me off the road for a while. He’s a good guy. Always has been.”
    I nodded.
    Harry said something to me and I turned back to face the table. “Sorry. What was that?” I asked.
    Harry spoke again, his keen eyes on me. “I asked if you’d ever worked on a set?”
    “No.” I shook my head, fighting the need to tap. Or squirm. Or something.
    “You have an agent?”
    “No.”
    “She used to live in New York,” Mila said to him. “She’s new here.”
    His eyes speared me. “Huh. New York? You look like someone I know—”
    “Why would she need an agent? She plays classical music in a restaurant,” Blair interrupted in a lofty tone. “And not the best one in town either. Really, Harry, what were you thinking in coming here? This place is truly awful.”
    “Her music isn’t classical by any stretch of the imagination,” Sebastian said softly, his eyes boring into mine.
    Blair stared at Sebastian, her face cold. “There’s a weird undercurrent between you two that needs to stop before anyone else notices.” She pointed out the window at a group of paparazzi who were standing on the sidewalk waiting for celebrities to walk by. “They don’t miss much of anything these days.”
    I blinked, unsure how to take her comments.”
    Wait, I do know you!” Blair exclaimed, turning back to me. I flinched. “You’re that girl who ran out of the coffee shop after making a huge mess. No wonder you didn’t want to admit you worked there. You’re also the girl Sebastian was with at the ice cream shop.” She sent Sebastian a scowl. “Did you plan this? Are you trying to ruin our careers?”
    What? That was insane. I didn’t want to ruin them.
    Harry, who’d been sitting quietly, surfing on his phone, snapped his head up, a look of triumph on his face. His voice boomed across the table. “You’re Violet St. Lyons, that heiress who was in the plane crash. I knew you looked familiar.” He proudly showed them his phone, scrolling through pictures of me being hauled up in a rescue helicopter and one of me coming out of the Dublin hospital.
    No!
    “Who?” Sebastian said, a look of confusion on his face as he studied the phone. I wasn’t surprised. It was New Yorkers who knew my face by heart.
    Harry added, “You know … the plane that was bombed on its way to Dublin? There were articles written about her for weeks. It was her eighteenth birthday, and they found her floating on—”
    “Stop,” I gasped out, my heart in my throat. I couldn’t breathe.
    All eyes swiveled to me, and memories hit me.
    The explosion.
    Bodies being sucked out the hole.
    My mother.
    My father.
    Water.
    Darkness.
    The panic attack took over, cold chills racing down my spine even as fire blazed over me. Hot. Cold. I clutched the table, lungs burning, black spots dancing in my eyes. My stomach rolled, and it felt like cotton was in my mouth. I swallowed convulsively, keeping down bile.
    Please, not here, not in front of Sebastian and his friends—and Blair.
    “V?” Sebastian said as he jumped up from his seat and scooted in next to me. He clutched my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
    Breathe! It’s not that hard!
    I practiced my exercises. Inhale … exhale.
    “She’s losing it, mate,” Spider said, a worried tone in his voice.
    “Talk to me,” Sebastian said, trying to lift my chin.
    “Need … to catch … breath.” I closed my eyes.
    Someone pff ed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s obviously faking for attention or she’s trashed.”
    “Shut the fuck up, Blair,” Sebastian snarled. “She’s freaking