“This is my friend Austin,” Lila said to me, grinning, an arm still around her friend’s waist. Austin was Lila’s opposite: curvy and broad-shouldered with olive skin, dark hair, and a nose piercing.
“Hey, I’m Maya,” I said, and Austin nodded at me with a knowing smile.
“You want one?” Nate held out an overflowing cup of beer. I wanted to reach for it, but I couldn’t move—I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to be right next to him. I became aware of my heartbeat, my breath. Up close he was so good-looking it was hard to think straight.
“Sure,” I said, finally, and when he handed me the cup, our fingers brushed and I felt a rush of energy. He smiled warmly.
“Thanks,” I said, noticing how my skin felt hot where he’d touched me. I stared into his eyes: flecks of gold in a sea of green, swirling into a stunning hazel. Trying not to seem so obvious, I took a long sip of the beer, the crisp cold bubbles sliding down my throat. And,Oh jeez. Was there foam on my upper lip?I wiped at it with the back of my hand.
“Hey, Nate Banks. What’s good?” He extended a hand. His hand was warm and strong around mine. “I know you. You’re in Behavioral Econ, right? You sit in front and wear that same scarf every day. Wentinon that dude last week.” He laughed.
I flushed, remembering how I’d gotten defensive about the topic—education and government spending. “Sometimes I wish someone would tell me to shut up,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
He looked amused at my embarrassment. “No. He deserved it.” He touched his cup to mine in a toast. “It’s nice to officially meetyou,” he said, and finally broke eye contact. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.
“You too,” I said, and somewhere deep within me I felt a strange fluttering.
For the rest of the night, we danced near one another. We were so close that I was aware of the space between us, the warmth of my breath, and the way my skin tingled whenever our arms would brush. I closed my eyes, drinking it in. Whatever this was, I wanted more.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Naomi
December 2022, five months before her death
Every night that week, I’dshow up at Liam’s doorstep, and he’d answer the door with that sexy half grin. “Hi.”
“Hey,” I’d reply, sliding past him into the room, trying to hide my smile. I knew I was avoiding thinking about Greystone and felt guilty.
But once I was in his bed, the night was a blur of tangled sheets, his body pressed against mine, every inch of my skin humming, and the next morning when I woke up next to him, I’d feel lit up inside.
—
On Friday, Liamand I are walking home from Sterling, where we met for dinner. He’s carrying his tennis gear because he came straight from practice, and he’s in one of his moods again.
“I’m this way,” he says as we round a corner.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a meeting. I told you about it yesterday,” he says. I don’t remember, but I nod anyway.
When I think he’s going to leave, he pulls me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re coming over later, right?”
“Probably not until ten-ish. I’m meeting Amy at Firestone.”
“What are you working on?”
I haven’t told Liam about Amy’s research. I trust him, but he’s a member of Greystone, and close with DuPont too. I can’t tell him for the same reason I can’t tell my sister: I don’t want to get them involved. I don’t want them to try to stop me. “We’re working on a paper onMacbeth.” I can’t meet his eyes.
“Okay…” His face changes as if he’s remembered something. “Oh shit, I think I left my phone in your room, can I borrow your keys? I’ll give them back to you tonight.”
“Oh, sure.” I hand him the keys and watch him take off down the sidewalk. He looks back, and when I wave, a strange look flashes over his face, but a second later, it’s gone.
—
“You won’t believeit,” Amy says once we settle into our study spot in Firestone Library. “I convinced one of the English professors, Fiona Williams, to talk to me off the record.”
I sit back, surprised. “Professor Williams is my thesis advisor.”
