I’m reading on my bed when Shy arrives at eleven. I’m trying to look chill, but in reality, I’ve reread the first line of this book fifty times since I picked it up. My heart’s been racing since he asked to come over, and my whole body is on fire, like I’m made of starlight.

“Hey,” he says, smiling.

“Hey.” I smile too.

He’s changed into jeans, a white button-up, and a dark jacket. With his arm still in a sling, it’s the only kind of shirt he can wear. Freshly showered, he smells like spice, and though he runs his fingers through his hair to keep it in place, pieces come loose, falling around his face in waves. I slide off the bed and move toward him, stopping when we’re a breath away from each other. I brush his hair out of his face when he clasps my hand and kisses my palm. The touch sends threads of heat through my bond. He twines his fingers with mine, pulling me flush against him, kissing me. His lips are soft and feverish, and he tastes sweet. The best part is that he’s alive, warm and real and solid beneath my hands.

“Ready?” he asks.

“If Mom—”

“Not leaving your house, remember?”

He climbs out the window and starts up to the roof. I’m impressed by his one-handed scaling of the wall. It makes me realize just how much upper body strength he has.

I follow behind him, thrilled, ignoring the red eyes of my hellhounds illuminating in the hedges around my house. Their low growls signal their disapproval, but this night isn’t about the Eurydice, the Order, or the differences between me and Shy.

It’s about us.

When I reach the roof, I find him standing beside a new telescope.

He clears his throat. “I thought you might like to stargaze.”

“Where did you get that?” My voice quivers as I point to the telescope.

He glances at it and rubs the back of his head. “I…uh…bought it. For you.”

I take a few deep breaths to keep from crying and move toward the telescope. It’s similar to the one my grandfather owned, the one we had to sell when we moved here. I touch it gingerly, afraid it might disintegrate.

“It’s…mine?”

He nods, his face like carved marble, and I realize he’s not sure what to make of my reaction, so I reach for him, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his chest.

His good arm circles me, squeezing tight.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, and I feel his lips brush my hair.

You are amazing, I want to say, but the words stick in my throat. He studies me for a long moment and then looks at the telescope.

“So find something,” he encourages.