You know you’re more to me than a summer boyfriend,” Avery said quietly, and was warmed by the broad, eager smile that broke over his face.
“You’re more to me than a summer girlfriend, Avery. So much more. You’re part of my life now, and I want you to keep being part of it.”
He paused before the final three words, words that balanced on the edge of the sentence like droplets of rain. “I love you.”
Avery had known somehow that he would say it, and yet Max’s declaration still sent a delicious shiver down her spine. She let the words echo for a moment, savoring them, knowing that with those words their relationship had shifted into something new. “I love you too.”
She snaked her arms around Max to pull him closer, feeling the muscles of his back through the fabric of his shirt. He leaned forward to drop a kiss on her forehead, but Avery tilted her face up, so that his lips met hers instead.
The kiss was soft and tender at first, almost languid. But then Max’s hands were tracing over her body with increasing urgency, sending little tingling whorls up and down her nerves. It felt as if her entire body was sizzling beneath her skin, or maybe her skin had grown too small to contain her. Avery’s breath came faster. She clung tighter to Max, feeling like the vines draping along the walls, as if she wouldn’t be able to stand without his support—
“Oh my god, get a room,” someone said, sliding open the door. Avery tore herself back in a sudden panic. She recognized the voice as Cord’s.
“We have a room, thanks. It’s this one,” Max replied blithely.
Avery couldn’t even bring herself to speak. She just watched the horrified amusement spread over Cord’s face as he realized who he’d interrupted. “Sorry, Avery, I didn’t realize. You two, um, carry on.”
He gave a funny double tap on the wall and started to beat a hasty retreat, but Avery had found her voice at last. “Cord, I don’t know if you’ve met my boyfriend, Max?”
Cord looked the same as ever, Avery thought, broad and imposing in his pirate costume, a crimson sash flung dramatically across his open-necked white shirt. He was holding a packet of potshots; a couple other guys, Ty Rodrick and Maxton Feld, were clustered behind him. They’d clearly all been about to smoke.
Cord’s ice-blue eyes held hers for a meaningful moment. Avery wondered if he was thinking about that night too—the one and only time that they had kissed, back in Dubai. It had been reckless and foolish and Avery hadn’t cared; she’d been tumbling down a dark and perilous spiral after losing Atlas, and nothing at all had mattered to her. Not even the implications of that kiss, and what it might do to her relationship with Cord.
She knew it was cowardly and immature, but she and Cord had never spoken of it. She’d barely even seen him afterward; she’d left the next week for England, and then met Max. Part of her felt that she owed Cord an apology. Because afterward, in the cruel light of day, Avery saw that kiss for what it was: a selfish attempt to wipe Atlas from her brain. Cord deserved better.
He smiled at Max and held out a hand. “Great to meet you, Max. I’m Avery’s friend Cord.” And Avery understood without being told that everything was folded into that word, friend. She and Cord would be just fine.
“Oh. This is your greenhouse!” Max edged past Cord, toward the door. “In that case, we should find another room. Maybe one less in demand. Or more geographically convenient.” He said that last bit to Avery, though loud enough that the rest of them all heard. She pursed her lips against a smile and dragged him back out into the party.
The rest of the night passed in a joy-soaked blur. She introduced Max to everyone—Leda stayed just long enough to say hi, though Avery was glad to see that he coaxed a smile from her. Finally, as the party was winding down, they slid into a hovertaxi home.
“You and Cord used to date, didn’t you?” Max asked abruptly.
Avery blinked, caught off guard, but Max didn’t seem to notice.
“He’s the guy, isn’t he? The one who broke your heart before you came to England?” Max sounded almost proud of himself for having figured it out. “I just felt a strange vibe between you, and I wondered.”
Avery’s heart was pounding wildly, echoing in her ears. “You’re right,” she said quickly. “Cord and I had a thing. But it didn’t work out.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Max agreed, as if pointing out the obvious. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Because you belong with me.”
Avery loved that about Max: the way he seemed so self-assured, so certain of the world and his place in it. The way he noticed things no one else paid attention to. But right now she needed him to pay a little bit less attention, or he might realize that she hadn’t really told him the truth.
She hadn’t wanted to lie to Max, but what other choice did she have? He couldn’t ever know who had actually broken her heart last year. If he knew the truth, Max wouldn’t want her anymore.
It didn’t matter that she and Atlas were long since over. If anyone found out the truth about them, Avery knew, her life would come crashing down around her.
CALLIOPE HATED HER bedroom at Nadav’s apartment.
It used to be the formal guest room and still contained the same set of heavy furniture, with clawed feet and angry-looking eagle heads carved into each drawer. The heavy velvet drapes seemed to crush the very air from the room. On the wall facing the bed hung an antique image of dogs killing a deer. Calliope thought it was morbid, but Nadav had won it in an auction and was terribly proud of it. She’d gotten in the habit of throwing a sweater over the painting before she went to bed, so the deer’s mournful eyes wouldn’t haunt her in her sleep.
When Calliope first moved in, she’d instantly begun planning how she would redo the room. She would buy light, airy furniture and colorful pillows and paint the wall with pigmaspectrum paint, in the bold primary palette. But when she mentioned her intention one night at dinner, Nadav had been so shocked that he let his fork clatter loudly to his plate.
“That paint is intended for toddlers’ rooms,” he pointed out, clearly affronted by her suggestion.
Calliope didn’t care that the paint was made for children. She loved the way it subtly shifted colors throughout the day, from a deep angry red all the way to purple and back again. “If you hate it, I can pick something else,” she’d offered as Elise met her gaze meaningfully across the table.
Nadav shook his head. “I’m sorry, Calliope, but you can’t redecorate. We need that room as a guest room for when my mom comes to stay.”
Why couldn’t she change her room just because Nadav’s mom would eventually be sleeping there? “When your mom is staying in my room, where will I—”
“You’ll share Livya’s room, of course.”
The only person who’d seemed unhappier about that than Calliope was Livya, whose lips pursed into a thin, pale line.
Calliope had grown used to a long litany of no’s from
