The girl slams her fist on Cullen’s trunk. Her mouth falls open as if to scream at him, but as she looks inside the car, she stops. Her eyes dart back and forth between Cullen and me, making the hairs on my arms and neck bristle. She drops her head, wraps her jacket around her chest, and hurries toward the building. Something about her seems off. And somehow familiar. But just as I’m about to wonder why she’s so afraid of Cullen, I see the camera crews. At the far end of the parking lot camped outside an empty spot.

“You called them,” I snap, pissed that I got in his car, pissed that I made this so convenient.

Cullen faces me. Once again, his tone is serious. “I’ll come around and open your door. I’ll stay on your right side. Hold on to my arm, and no one will notice that limp or the puffy eyes you’re trying to hide.”

Cullen stares at me in a way that, for the first time, doesn’t feel completely smarmy before hitting the gas and speeding toward the cameras like he’s late for school. The crew shuffles aside as Cullen eases up and rolls in. He smiles at the reporter and leans toward me. “Ready?” He kisses me on the cheek.

I flinch, fighting the impulse to wipe it away, and try to reassure myself that ditching the target on my back is necessary if I want to destroy the Swarm.

Cullen steps out of the car and flirts with the lead reporter. When he opens my door, light from the camera shines in my face. I grab for Cullen’s arm so at least my wounded foot isn’t plastered all over the station as the next bit of something “newsworthy.”

I keep my head down—partly in resignation that I’m lowering myself to something so humiliating.

Cullen does the talking. I tune it all out, forcing myself to smile once or twice and willing myself to hold on to his arm instead of running the other way, far from the absurdity of what I’m doing. I hear Cullen say, “I guess we both lucked out that she ended up on my dock,” and decide to hyperfocus on walking like I don’t have a jolt of pain shooting up my leg. The camera with its glaring light and the reporter with her trivial questions follow us like we’re famous. Before I know it, it’s over, and I feel the need to shower.

“See? It wasn’t so bad.”

I can’t look at him. “Sure.” I keep my head down, anxious to put distance between us.

Cullen chuckles as we go our separate ways.