“It’s freezing. You went walking tonight? Here?”

He makes some sound, looks beyond me into the house.

“Are you drunk?” I ask.

He returns his gaze to me, shakes his head, but I’m not convinced. He steps inside without waiting for an invitation. I close the door, shuddering at the cold.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Long day.” He stops, looks off in the distance, shakes his head. “Long fucking week. You have something to drink?”

“Coffee?” I ask, not surprised when he shakes his head.

“Something stronger.”

“Um.” I walk into the living room. He follows me. I don’t drink whiskey, which I think is what he’s looking for, but the owners have a stash of it. I open the cabinet, look at the various bottles, feel Sergio step close behind me. I turn to him, study his face. He’s scanning the selection and a moment later, chooses a bottle from the back. He doesn’t bother to pour it into a glass but drinks directly from it.

“Are you okay?” I ask carefully.

He looks at me, his eyes fierce in the dimly lit room. He drinks another swallow, sways on his feet. “I have a key,” he says, producing a ring of keys from his pocket.

“Good for you,” I say, not quite following. I reach for the bottle in his hand. “Maybe you’ve had enough.”

He draws it back and shoves his keys back into his pocket. Drinks again. When he takes a step to the side, he knocks his shin right into the coffee table, and mutters a curse.

“Why don’t you sit down,” I say, taking his shoulders, turning him toward the couch. “And give me your coat.” He reluctantly lets me take the bottle for the moment it takes him to slide his coat off. He flops onto the couch, taking the whiskey back from me to drink another swallow.

“What were you doing?” He picks up my notebook.

“Nothing.” I take the whiskey from him, push the lid back on.

“Tell me about the professor.”

“What? Oh.” He means Professor Dayton. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Just he’s another one of those men who thinks with their dicks. That’s all. No big deal, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did he touch you?”

“It’s fine.”

“Did he fucking touch you?”

“He stuck his hand up my skirt.”

Sergio’s hand fists. I watch him, study his eyes. This is dangerous ground. Dangerous for Professor Dayton. “Just forget it. It stopped at that. And I’m not taking the internship anyway. I’m leaving, in fact.”

“Nat—”

“Please.”

His eyes narrow, like he’s thinking, and when he nods, I’m surprised.

“Did something happen tonight?”