I recoiled. Nobody had ever doubted me—my parents praised everything I did—and I wanted to stand up for myself, but I couldn’t think of a comeback to save my life.

Dismissing me with a flick of his wrist, he faced the class with a superior smile. “Today we’re going to work on speaking our inner monologue.”

There was a collective groan, but I slowly exhaled relief at being out of the spotlight.

“The ability to speak your thoughts out loud is crucial in social situations,” he continued. “When a group falls silent, you can keep the conversation going by voicing your inner monologue—what it’s noticing, thinking. Chances are, others are thinking the same thing, they just aren’t brave enough to say it out loud. By mastering this technique, you are mastering other people. They’ll feel a connection to you—will open up to you—and this is the key to wielding your influence.” He paused, taking a seat on the arm of an overstuffed chair in the lounge. “It takes coming out of your shell, though. You’ve got to have confidence. I’m going to pair you up.”

The groaning intensified.

“Adam.” Peter waved his finger in our direction. “You and Ella are partners. Go make yourselves comfortable.”

My eyes widened.

“All right. Come on, Ella.” Standing, Adam offered his hand. I could feel Lil shooting daggers into my back.

My tongue was wood, so I remained silent and allowed him to lead me to a floor cushion.

Once everyone was paired off, Peter continued his instructions.

“This is a trick stand-up comedians have mastered—you don’t have to be as funny as them, though—anyone can do it. Speak your mind. What is your inner monologue noticing about the other person? What are your innermost thoughts?”

I sat facing Adam, my legs crisscrossed. The outline of his pecs was visible through his T-shirt, and his arms were big, but not too big. Lean. Strong. But there was no way I was saying that out loud. My clammy hands gripped the crochet cushion, my gaze frozen on his chest. Staring.

“I don’t hear you talking!” Peter strolled around the room, pausing next to us. “Adam. You start. Show her how it’s done.”

Adam remained silent, and I snuck a glance at his face. He was smiling.

“Ä89. Impressive,” he said.

“It’s a start,” Peter said, walking away.

I searched for lenses outlining Adam’s irises, for a telltale sign he was doing an internet image search for my face. Getting lost in his blue eyes, I felt warmth spread over my skin, and in a flash, I had a vision of us huddled under an umbrella, laughing. Somehow, I knew—knew it in the center of my core—he was going to be important in my life. Taking a deep breath, I spoke what I was thinking. “Are you wearing AMPs? What app are you using? It’s rude to spy on people, you know.”

“No. I don’t use those things—I like letting mysteries unfold naturally.” His lips stretched farther, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. “Everyone knows your price. Tell me something no one knows.”