Rule number two, which sort of ties into rule one, is that we more or less act the same around each other as we did right before our first kiss. That means I hang out with Molly, and Rose with Eleanor. During the days, anyway. Rose points out that it’ll be easier for us to hide that there’s “something between us”—her words for “I don’t really know what we are, but we sure as hell aren’t platonic”—if there aren’t too many eyes on us.

Rose is not wrong. If I’m even in the same room as her, I find it hard to wrench my eyes away. Whenever she’s close enough to touch, but I can’t reach out and brush her hand, or her shoulder, or her perfect, perfect collarbone, I find it hard to form a coherent thought. I don’t think I have it in me to be subtle.

To be fair, I can’t help it if nothing else in the room is ever as interesting to look at as she is.

Rule number three is, every door is always locked. And if a door can’t be locked, we don’t risk it.

Or at least, that’s what I thought rule number three was. Except right now, I’m in the ballroom practicing piano, and Rose has abandoned her makeshift homework station to hover very, very closely behind me. I ignore her until she sweeps my hair to one side and kisses the exposed skin where the base of my neck meets the top of my spine.

Jesus Christ.

Obviously, I can’t be expected to focus on piano under these conditions, and I let my hands fall into my lap as I swing around.

“Rose,” I say, and she gives me an innocent look.

“Yes?”

“We’re in a public place.”

She steps closer to me, placing a leg on either side of my knees, letting her long waves hang around my face. It takes superhuman strength for me not to hook my hands around the back of her thighs and pull her down to me. “We’re in a room with the curtains drawn and the door closed,” she says.

Luckily, I do have superhuman strength, but it’s being tested. I wriggle backward with a pointed look. “A door that could be opened any second.”

“It’s heavy. We’d have warning.”

“Not enough warning for you to climb off my lap and make it back to your own seat.”

“Is that an invitation?” Rose asks with a mischievous grin, and I swivel back to face the piano before I break and decide to risk it.