I shake my head, baffled by the conniving, amusing, petty plans this man seems to have put in place in the last three hours, and ask in my most conversational tone: “Are you out of your mind?”

He listens for more noises. When he’s satisfied that the others are not eavesdropping, he starts glancing around my room. With him in it, it looks about as big as the eye of a needle. “Probably. But that’s unrelated to my presence here.”

“I cannot believe you came. I haven’t seen you in…” In?

“Yeah, I tried to figure it out on the plane.” Conor Harkness is here. Inspecting the desk where I fall asleep when I play Final Fantasy for too long. Running a finger pad down the cracked spine of my old astrochemistry textbook. “I think Eli invited me to your high school graduation.”

“Oh. Did you go?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

He gives me a straight look. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than go to the graduation of some teenager I barely know.”

Laughter, real laughter, pours out of me for the first time in days. It’s snorted out and phlegmy, probably disgusting, but Conor seems charmed, even as his eyes roam my desk and stumble on the !BIRTH CONTROL! Post-it that I put up to avoid forgetting my pills.

He nods to himself, faintly discomposed.

“Told you. Not thirteen.”

“Still not sure about that.”

“I’m an adult. I go to school in a different country. I have a credit card. I own sex toys.” I impulsively open my bedside drawer and show him my stash, only slightly regretting it when I remember the giant dragon dildo Rose gave me as a birthday present.

Conor takes it in. Blinks, several times. “Not thirteen,” he acquiesces with a nod, moving to study the hoard of stationery items that live on my desk.

“Is this creepy?” I ask. “That you’re here, I mean.” It doesn’t feel like it, but…should it?

“The fact that I’m in your room? A little, yeah. In my defense, though, that was your call. Not part of my plan.”

“What was your plan?”

“Mostly, deferring to you.”

“Really? Because you kinda took charge with the whole fake-relationship thing.”

He winces. “Yeah. That was…impulsive. And pure fucking spite.” I tilt my head, and he continues, “Those two were Velcroed together from the second I got here. They had no idea where you were, or why you were out this late. They were not worried that you weren’t answering your phone. And then I saw your face when you came in, and…” His expression is fascinating. A mix of tightly leashed control, utter chaos, and thirst for vengeance. “You know, I may have anger issues, too.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “You don’t say.”

“But now that your friends—and I use the term loosely—think that there is someone else in your life, you have options.”

“Such as?”

“If you need a break from them, you could spend the next few nights at my hotel. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, so the room would be all yours. But they won’t know that.”