“It was nice of you to come,” he said, drawing nearer. “Are you glad you did?”

“Yes,” I said faintly.

His wide palms grazed my bare shoulders, then pulled me toward him. The kiss happened before I registered it, his lips parting mine, his tongue in my mouth. It wasn’t a bad kiss, and it wasn’t what I wanted, but I let it go on for a moment, weighing my options, before I pushed him back.

“Sorry,” he said, still holding my shoulders. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Me, neither,” I said, smiling a little, playing the part. I pushed him again, and this time he released me. “But I’m starving. Let me change, okay?”

I HID IN THE SAGE-SCENTED bathroom, hunched over my knees on the closed toilet seat, long enough to slow my breathing. The bathroom sink was not wet. Pearson had not been carrying his swimsuit. If he had come upstairs to pee, he had not washed his hands. This was not unheard of for a dude, but Pearson was about to eat. Wouldn’t he wash his hands if he were about to eat? And yet why would he follow me up here and hide in the bathroom? To ambush me and kiss me?

I had to go back downstairs and face them. I dropped the damp towel on the floor and peeled off my swimsuit, my naked body flashing in the mirror. I kept my head down, avoiding my reflection, as I tugged on dry clothes over my sticky damp skin. I knew my eyes were red-rimmed from the pool water, my hair lank and wet. My makeup had washed off and I had nothing to reapply, my crow’s feet visible. Pearson had noticed them, too. Pearson was noticing a lot about me.

I didn’t want to pursue that thought further, so as I tried to finger-comb out my tangles, my mind jumped to the petition for protection against stalking and harassment. Who was it for, Zania or Nelson? Or was it against Nelson? Either way, the last five minutes, starting with Brenae’s picture and ending with Pearson’s kiss, made my spine crawl. I didn’t need to see anything more. I needed to leave.

AS I SLIPPED BAREFOOT DOWN the shiny wood stairs, Layla, Zania, and Erik were munching from a chaos of white containers and arguing about something in low, intense tones. It was dark out, and the pool shimmered beyond, looking bluer and deeper than ever.

Layla set down her fork as I appeared. “Want some takeout, Mary?” she said to me with controlled warmth.

“Thank you.” I put a couple of wings on my plate. “I have to go soon, though.”

The women watched me silently. Erik’s drunkenness had deepened to a leaden focus on his food. He kept trying to pin a red slice of sashimi with his chopsticks. “Get over here,” he muttered to it.

“Where’s Pearson?” I said.