“Word of advice, lad?” Conor says.

Alfie nods stiffly.

“Get out of my sight. Right now. And do not talk to Maya unless you’re answering a question she personally asked you.”

When Alfie looks at me wide-eyed, vaguely shocked by the threat, I smile and tell him, “You should do as he says. He’s so much older than us, there’s no telling what his impulse control is.”

Alfie bristles away. When he’s out of sight, I angle my body toward Conor’s, savor the unfurling warmth of the tequila, and say, “That was fun.”

“Was it?”

“Mmm. Maybe not for Alfie.” I smile up at him. After a while, Conor answers in kind. “We should go,” I tell him.

“Yeah. I think I’ve had enough of college students.”

“Hey. I’m a college student.”

He sighs. “And don’t I know it.”

It’s his hand on the small of my back that pushes me out of the pub.

Chapter 16

Present day

Taormina, Italy

I lie next to Nyota on her bed and let out a slow exhale when she asks: “What do you mean, you left them alone and went off by yourself?”

On the one hand, the question is whispered, and given that her room is right across from Avery’s, I should be very grateful for the courtesy. Unfortunately, Nyota’s whispers seem to have the acoustic power of a sperm whale.

“I don’t know, Ny. I don’t…Conor and Avery—she said that they still like each other. And he slept in Tamryn’s room, I think. I don’t get what’s happening, but I’m not going to compete against women for a guy who clearly—”

“Listen, Maya—he doesn’t want Tamryn, or Avery. He wants you.”

Nyota’s expression is adamant, which is not unusual. It’s the contrast between what she just said and the degree of self-assurance that has me asking, “Did the staphylococcus take a bite off your brain?”

“I’m serious.”

I press the back of my hand against her smooth forehead, looking for signs of meningitis.

“Goddammit—I’m not sick. Or, I am, but—I was sitting next to him for dinner, and I guarantee you that that man has zero interest in Tamryn or in Avery. He looked at you the whole time.”

“Sure he did.”

“Seriously. Not in an obvious way, he’s smarter than that. But he’s constantly checking on you. He keeps track of where you are.”

I scowl. “He’s just controlling. And protective. Mostly because he infantilizes me—”

“Believe me,” she says darkly. “There is nothing infantilizing about the way he looks at you.”

“Right, yeah. How was your day? Do you want to—”

“He’s just good at hiding it from you, I’ll give you that. But while you were playing with the baby boy—”

“Kaede’s a girl.”

She waves her palm, dismissive. “I refuse to acknowledge the existence of children unless it’s absolutely necessary. They produce terrible noises and even more terrible smells, but society lets them get away with it just because they’re cute. It’s obscene how whipped they have us. Anyway, Hark looked at you and the child the whole time. And he glared at Paul.”