His eyes skim mine for a moment before he turns to the espresso machine, throws a mug on the metal grate, and pulls a shot. “What are your thoughts on Mars? To colonize or not to colonize?”

I am in so much trouble.

A laugh falls out of me and, just like that, the world hurts less.

“Because, I don’t know, Mae, I gotta say that as exciting as it sounds, I kinda like our little rock here.” He takes his finished shot and leans his elbows on the counter, his eyes on mine. “So many things on Earth to recommend it, wouldn’t you say?”

I take a breath, eat my brownie, and studiously ignore his eyes. “Well, there aren’t brownies on Mars. Yet.”

He leans forward a little bit more, and I look up at his bleached hair sliding by those warm brown eyes, and I am instantly invaded by an army, an entire cavalcade, of lusty chemicals.

“Was the brownie worth the train ride?” he murmurs.

“It … the … what?”

WHAT IS HAPPENING? How have I lost capacity for speech, and why is my oxygen supply running low? WHAT IS HE DOING TO ME?

He leans closer. Oh, that smile. Ben Tamura is a threat to the mission—and he knows it. “The brownie, Mae.”

I push back from the counter. “You—just. Stay there. Dopamine.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’ve been called worse.”

“Serotonin and norepinephrine.”

That’s all this is. Chemicals, hormones. My body just being a body. A stupid, human body.

He grins. “When do I get to be oxytocin and vasopressin?”

The attachment chemicals. I don’t smile back.

“I … I can’t, Ben.”

I don’t like how he overwhelms me. How I can’t think straight. His presence makes me waver. Doubt my choices. And besides, oxytocin is the kind of stuff Nah used to buy from the boardwalk—everyone’s favorite opiate, apparently. But people can become drugs, too. I don’t want to ever need something that much.

The playful glint in his eyes gutters. “Mae—”

“Listen. My sister is sick. My parents are dead. Everything in my life is up in the air. I can’t take on anything else.”

“I’m not something to take on. I can help.”

“I don’t need help. My sister does. I’m sorry. It’s not a good time.”

He hoists himself over the counter in one astonishingly fast move, one worthy of Ichigo, and takes my hands in both of his. They are so warm, and that’s nice, but then an electrical charge goes through my whole body and I feel myself lean toward him and I don’t stop. I need to stop. Why can’t I stop?

“Everyone needs help,” he says.