He leans toward me, eyes bright with excitement. “For every ten launch parties, corporate functions, or celebrity mixers she organizes, she hosts a charity benefit. She’ll get Adidas to sponsor a dance party for underprivileged teens, where every kid goes home with a pair of top-of-the-line shoes. Or get Red Bull to pay for ski camp for inner-city kids whose families normally wouldn’t be able to send them to the Alps. Believe me, Louis. This girl is one of a kind.”

When he talks about Georgia, Arthur’s face is transfigured. His handsome features radiate joy. And I feel that pang again. The pang of craving. Of desire. Not just the desire to fit in—to have a group who accepts and values me. But to have my own person to love. Someone I can feel for like Arthur feels about Georgia.

He interrupts my musing with his own question. “So, I’m barely back to life here, but I couldn’t help notice some...frostiness between you and Siaka.”

Wow. Is it that obvious?  “Um, yeah, I guess five years in Brittany was enough time to lose all my social skills. It might take me a while to get used to being around people,” I say.

“Is that it?” Arthur asks. “You seemed to get on extremely well yesterday. Maybe well enough to cause a conflict of interest?”

Oh my god. Georgia has definitely talked to him about what she saw between me and Siaka. Or, rather, me toward Siaka. “Um, that’s not... It’s not!” I sputter. “I mean, you guys brought me here to do a job. And that’s totally what I’m going to do. ‘Conflict of interest’ can’t come into it. That’s why I’m determined to keep things professional.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.” He masks a smile by popping a grape into his mouth.

“Is ‘fun’ supposed to come into it when you’re entrusted with a project that has world-changing potential?” I ask.

“Preferably,” Arthur replies, amused. “I am of the personal belief that fun should be had in every serious endeavor. In fact, the more serious a project, the more fun is needed.”

I can see he’s not joking. I don’t know how to respond, so we sit in silence.

“I’m not trying to interfere, or anything,” he says finally. “But I would like to tell you something about your new ‘colleague.’ A few months after his mom died, he joined me and Ambrose as counselors for one of Georgia’s ski camps. You should have seen him with that group of kids.