“You stole the cupcake to give to me?” A smile spreads across his face—a real one, maybe the first I’ve seen from him. It changes his face, turning him from merely handsome to…devastating.

My stomach flips. Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t smile more often. A very good thing.

“I’m even more flattered,” he says. “But don’t worry. No allergies here.”

He takes a huge bite, leaving a few crumbs on his mouth. Whatever my gut was trying to tell me, it’s too late now. The Voice made sure of that.

And see? He’s fine. He hasn’t collapsed to the floor. He’s sitting there, all tall and muscly and solid. The crumbs cling stubbornly to his full, well-shaped lips, just waiting for someone’s fingers to brush them away…

Do. Not. Stare. At. His. Lips.

“Are you and Charlie close?” I ask, sitting on my fingers.

“Not really. He lives in a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere, and he doesn’t surface all that often.” He takes another bite.

“Maybe I can meet him sometime,” I venture. After all, the Voice said to keep Charlie away from Dad. Maybe my family by implication. But she didn’t say anything about me. What better way to find out about Charlie than to go directly to the source? “He seems like an interesting guy.”

“Sure,” Bandit says easily. “We can do it now, if you’re feeling better.”

Yes! I pump a mental fist in the air, my energy returning in waves.

I’m about to get to my feet when Bandit crumples up the rest of his cupcake and tosses it in a nearby trash can. My heart lurches. How many bites did he take? Two? Nowhere near the entire thing.

The Voice isn’t going to be pleased. She said to make sure he ate all of it. But what can I do? Short of fishing the dessert out of the trash, I can hardly make him finish it.

“Don’t tell Cristela I threw away the cupcake, okay?” Bandit grins. “It was a little sweet for my taste.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I force up my lips. “Let’s go meet your uncle Charlie.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” His forehead creases. “No pressure. You can meet him some other time.”

“I feel a 110 percent,” I assure him.

But as we walk from the room, I can’t help but wonder: What other secrets does Bandit have? Is he the arrogant and easygoing boy he appears to be? Or is his blue hair hiding dark secrets—a creepy obsession with my best friend, a hand in his uncle’s “fringe” research?

The Voice put him in my path for a reason. I don’t care how cute he is; I’m going to figure out his role in the future apocalypse—and hold him accountable if it’s bad.