But now, looking back on his interactions with him—trying to see Roth without the rose-colored glasses—Andy realized that Roth treated Sean, Darnell, and especially Libby, like garbage.

As for the other thing Thomas said, it couldn’t possibly be true. Gorgeous Dr. Farah Karim was into him?

No way.

Not once during their limited interaction had he gotten an inkling she was interested. Though to be fair, it had been several years since any female had shown any interest in him, and it was possible—even probable—that he’d simply forgotten how to read the signals.

His last relationship was four years earlier. It was a girl he’d met online. They had traded messages for a few weeks before finally meeting at a coffee shop. She was slightly less attractive than her profile pictures but was nice enough, and they had ended up dating for eight months. It had never been the passionate, “claw at your back, bees in your belly” relationship Andy had always wanted. It was more “watch Netflix for six hours together and then maybe, every few weeks, have sex.”

When Andy had headed to Peru for his dissertation, he broke things off, surprised at how little the breakup affected him.

He thought back to what Thomas had said, how Farah’s fingers fidgeted whenever she was near him. He’d never noticed it.

Andy closed his eyes, and over the next twenty minutes he went on multiple dates with Farah. Dining at a nice restaurant. Going to the opening of a new movie. At Comic-Con, both dressed in cosplay: he as Ironman, Farah as Black Widow.

Andy felt a twitch in his groin.

He let the fantasy play out. Going back to their hotel room, peeling her costume off her. He imagined her full breasts, toned stomach, her—

There was a loud whistle, and Andy bolted upright. The sound was coming from just north of him.

Farah’s campsite.

Andy flipped on the lantern and ducked out of the tent. A small group of bats flew overheard, but he hardly noticed. There was one final whistle as he pushed his way through the brush and the fifteen meters that separated his camp from Farah’s.

Holland and Libby arrived at nearly the same time as Andy, each holding their own lantern. Farah stood outside her tent. Her chest was heaving, and the orange whistle was still in her mouth.

“What happened?” Holland shouted.

Farah pulled the whistle from her mouth, then after two long breaths, she said, “A fer-de-lance.”

“Where?”

She nodded to where the flap to her tent was open. “I was coming back from going to the bathroom, and it was sitting right in front of the tent. It slithered off right before you arrived.”

Holland walked forward and surveyed the ground. “Don’t see—” he stopped suddenly, then glancing into Farah’s tent, he said, “Oh, hey there.”

Andy was confused until a head popped out of the flap.