Wordless, he runs his fingers across the edges of my hands, as if they’re delicate seams. His eyes almost—almost—look wet, but I know it’s a trick of the light. I can feel his warmth seeping into me. I see the rough skin on his jaw, pale in the light.

I lean toward him, into his singular scent, driven forward by something bigger than myself—

My phone rings, shattering the moment, and I drop his hands to slip it out of my pocket.

Tai, of course. Furious I’ve left, probably. I silence the ringer and jam the phone into my pocket.

Hérrakí bites his lip, and we say goodbye. I hurry away, eyes trained on the road. I keep glimpsing behind me, just to see him again, and he doesn’t move once—he just watches, a ghost of a wistful smile on his face.

“Excuse me,” says a man who bumps into me—or rather, I bump into him. I look up, the smell of onion thick in my nose.

The man has three long, raking scars on his face—like a cheap monster from a film, like fodder for anyone’s nightmare.

The world goes slow as I realize it’s him. His mouth spreads into a gashlike smile.

TAI

Just as I’m dialing Teddy and Marion, Noni barges through the front door of the apartment covered in a thin film of sweat. Ugly sweat, not the glisten we pay money for.

“Where’d you go for your nap? The dark side of the moon?” I snap, folding closed the glossy magazine I wasn’t reading, when really I mean, You scared me half to death, how could you sneak out like that after last night? But then I notice she’s trembling, teary-eyed, her jeans stained, and I stiffen.

“This man followed me, Tai. This man, with three scratches over his face, he found me. Some stalker, some—” She tucks her salty-sweaty hair behind her ears with bloodied hands.

I sit up. “What happened? Three scratches?” That sounds like a cartoon villain. Exactly the sort of thing someone would hallucinate after a panic attack, I think to myself, even though I have no idea what I’m talking about. “What happened to your hand—”

“He chased me before, after the flower shop—”

“This isn’t the first time?” I interrupt right back, voice rising. “You went without the car? Why?”

She sighs, like I’ve said something frustrating, and rubs at her eyes. “As if the car is safe.”

I’m crying before I can stop myself, and I bite down hard on my lip so I won’t say the words I want to say, some feverish, scrambled version of Fuck you I can’t lose you I love you what’s wrong with you because not now. Not when she’s like this, and I need to step up. “So what was so important?”