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“I thought someone was following me again.”

“Yeah,” he says after a beat. “I figured.”

I blink. “You figured?”

“Ro, you looked like you were about to crawl out of your own skin before you left.”

Ignoring the heat creeping up my neck, I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You absolutely were. And then you went to the roof terrace? I mean, why? That place is terrifying. Even I would get a scare.” He points the screwdriver at me again. “And before you say it, no, I’m not talking about your heart.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Damaris gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe a word of it.

A reluctant laugh escapes me, and the tension eases between us.

Then he lowers the screwdriver, rolling the loose gear between his fingers while watching me a little too carefully. “I just hope you weren’t alone.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking back down at the machine before tightening a bolt. “Just… you looked like you needed someone, Ro. And considering whose house you spent the last two nights in, I’m choosing to assume the universe finally did something useful for once.”

“Dama.”

“What?” He glances up innocently. “I’m not asking for details.”

“Good.”

“I mean it.” His voice softens as he sets the wrench aside. “Whatever happened, I just hope he was there when you needed him.”

For a second, neither of us says anything. Then something familiar returns to his expression, a teasing glint settling back into his eyes.

“And if you’re dealing with a whole bunch of feelings you’ve never had before, I’m still the closest thing you’ve got to expert advice.”

“But I⁠—”

“No, no, no. I don’t want to hear it.”

Light, the smug look lingering around his mouth tells me exactly how much he’s enjoying this.

I expect him to keep going, but instead he just returns to tightening one of the crooked wires on his machine.

“Your Ma replied, by the way.”

“What?”

“The recording from the event. Remember? I told you I was going to film it.”

I stare at him. For some reason, I assumed he’d forget.

"Damn, you really think highly of me. Boo, you looked awesome on that stage." He rolls his eyes at me, then gives the wire another twist. "Anyway, she replied this morning. Said she was so proud of you."

For a moment, I don’t quite know what to do with that. Ma spent most of my childhood worrying—about money, about work, about me and Sola making mistakes we couldn’t afford to make—and proud wasn’t a word I heard very often. For some reason, hearing it now leaves an ache behind.

My gaze drifts toward the academy towers cutting across the gray sky, and I find myself thinking about Sola. About all the things she never said, and people watching me like they know something I don’t.

Halvern had once told me fate was often more a question of good planning. At the time, I thought he was talking about music, but maybe he wasn’t.