“No . . .” Noel pushed away from her, and her whole front went cold. “My lips are going numb—were you eating strawberries?”

“Oh God,” she said. “Chex mix.”

“Chex mix?”

“Cashews,” she said. “And probably other tree nuts.”

“Ah,” Noel said.

Mags was already dragging him away from the wall. “Do you have something with you?”

“Benadryl,” he said. “In my car. But it makes me sleepy. I’m probably fine.”

“Where are your keys?”

“In my pocket,” he said, pointing at her, at his jacket.

Mags found the keys and kept pulling him. His car was parked on the street, and the Benadryl was in the glove compartment. Mags watched Noel swallow the pills, then stood with her arms folded, waiting for whatever came next.

“Can you breathe?” she asked.

“I can breathe.”

“What usually happens?”

He grinned. “This has never happened before.”

“You know what I mean.”

“My mouth tingles. My tongue and lips swell up. I get hives. Do you want to check me for hives?” Wolfish.

“Then what?” she asked.

“Then nothing,” he said. “Then I take Benadryl. I have an EpiPen, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“I’m going to check you for hives,” she said.

He grinned again and held out his arms. She looked at them. She lifted up his striped T-shirt . . . He was pale. And covered in goose bumps. And there were freckles she’d never known about on his chest.

“I don’t think you have hives,” she said.

“I can feel the Benadryl working already.” He dropped his arms and put them around her.

“Don’t kiss me again,” Mags said.

“Immediately,” Noel said. “I won’t kiss you again immediately.”

She leaned into him, her temple on his chin, and closed her eyes.

“I knew you’d save my life,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have had to save it if I didn’t almost kill you.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit. It’s the tree nuts who are trying to kill me.”

She nodded.

They were both quiet for a few minutes.

“Noel?”

“Yeah?”

She had to ask him this—she had to make herself ask it: “Are you just being melodramatic?”

“Mags, I promise. I wouldn’t fake an allergic response.”

“No,” she said. “With the kiss.”

“There was more than one kiss . . .”

“With all of them,” she said. “Were you just—embellishing?”

Mags braced for him to say something silly.

“No,” Noel said. Then, “Were you just humoring me?”

“God. No,” she said. “Did it feel like I was humoring you?”

Noel shook his head, rubbing his chin into her temple.

“What are we doing?” Mags asked.

“I don’t know . . .” he said eventually. “I know things have to change, but . . . I can’t lose you. I don’t think I get another one like you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Noel.”

“You are,” he said, squeezing her. “And it’s okay. Just . . . I need you to take me with you.”