He crosses his arms over his chest in a protective measure. “I thought I knew you, Ada, and I thought you were nice, but now I’m starting to think that you’re . . .”

“Evil? Because I asked you to have . . .” I glance around. There are so many people. “. . . tea with me? Like you’re Adam and I’m Eve, and here I am offering you the apple?”

“No,” he says quickly. “It’s not about the . . . tea . . . It’s that I thought you were a good person, but . . .”

“But what?”

He sighs. “I saw you put pepper in Billy Wong’s drink tonight.”

Now it’s me who doesn’t know what to say. My brain churns with excuses, but none of them work. “You were there, and you didn’t say anything?” I say, looking for some way—any way, really—for this not to be my fault. “You thought you’d just, like, spy on me?”

“I wasn’t spying,” Nick sputters. “I waved when you came in, but you didn’t see me. You were too busy trying to poison a guy.”

“I wasn’t trying to poison him!” I object. “Did you know that pepper actually has many medicinal qualities? Some people drink pepper in their water every day. It helps with their metabolism.”

He stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head.

“Oh, all right!” I burst out, exasperated. “I was trying to—well, not poison him, exactly, but yes, do something mean.”

“Which brings me back to you being evil.”

“I’m not evil. I just . . .” I can’t tell him why. “I just don’t like Billy Wong.”

Nick shakes his head. “But why?”

I shrug.

“Billy’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” he says.

“Maybe you should get out more.”

His gray eyes flash. “Ask anybody. He’s the coolest, nicest, most all-around great guy who comes to STS. Add that to the fact that he’s a surgeon, and you and I both know how surgeons can be, and Billy should win an award or something.”

I thought so, too. Before this week, anyway. But now things are different.

I put my hands on my hips and glare at Nick. “Maybe nobody knows the real Billy. I mean, come on, how well do any of these people know each other, really? We see each other for seven days, once a year. I don’t even know you very well, and we’re about to—” Another group of hotel guests walk up to wait for the tram. “—have tea together.”

Nick sits down on one of the benches, like he’s decided to wait for the tram, too. “I guess I don’t know you that well, either.”

I sit down next to him. “I’m sorry. I wish I could explain why, but—”