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I lean down so we are almost nose to nose. “So then why don’t you do the same thing at KMG?”

He sighs. “Because I’m not like you, Sophie.”

“That’s the good news, you idiot. You don’t have to be. You just have to beyou. Lean intoyourstrengths: your charm, your way with people. Your ability to learn quickly, to form connections and put people at ease. Use it—all of it. And when there’s something you don’t know,learnit. That’s what actual smart people do: they keep learning. They ask questions. They practice until they get it right. Remember how I taught you aboutHamlet? You didn’t have a clue at first, but you still smashed the exam. Do what you did then—and keep doing it.”

He watches me in silence for a long moment. His blue eyes are darker than usual, heavy with unspoken emotions. And it’s heart-warming, somehow, seeing Evan Knight like this, teetering at a crossroads, weighed down by doubt and uncertainty.

“What if I fail?” he asks softly.

“You won’t,” I say firmly. “And if you do, you’ll get back on your feet, dust yourself off, and try again. If for no other reason, then do it to shut up everyone who’s doubted you. Prove them wrong, Evan. Because when you do, I promise you it’ll feel so fucking good you’ll never want to stop.”

He reaches up, cupping the back of my head, and pulls me down into a kiss. It’s slow and lingering, filled with a quiet gratitude that makes me ache. For a moment, he just looks at me, eyes searching mine.

He takes a faltering breath.

“You promise?” he says, so boyish it makes my heart ache.

“I promise.”

18

Work Thing

Evan

At the end ofthe weekend, Sophie sneaks me back out to my car, where we spend far too long in the rain saying goodbye without saying goodbye. Sophie’s holding an umbrella over us, the rain drumming against the black canopy in a low, steady rhythm. The air smells like wet leaves and damp concrete, the cold bite of winter still lingering. I’m leaning back against my car, my arms around Sophie’s waist, sharing body heat—keeping her close for as long as I possibly can before I’m forced to let her go.

“Next time, just tell me you’re here,” she’s saying with the furrowed brow of a schoolmistress. She looks awful serious despite the fact her glasses are slightly misty from the rain, and I tighten my arms around her, slipping a thumb underneath her top to feel the warm skin of her waist as she berates me. “You don’t need to keep climbing the fire escape. Even if it’s very romantic, it’s also incredibly dangerous, especially with all this rain, and I’d rather you not slip and fall to your death. So just tell me when you’re here, and I’ll come out and sneak you in.”

“I’m starting to think you like this, Sutton,” I say huskily. My hand’s now fully under her shirt, fingers splayed againstthe delicate ridges of her ribcage, thumb flicking at the elastic band of her bra. “All this sneaking around, all this secret fucking.”

She glares up at me, but she also slides her thighs right against mine, arching ever so slightly closer to me. “Says the degenerate who’s risking death climbing a slippery fire escape just for a chance of getting into my bed.”

I laugh; the sound comes out scratchy and rough. “Not a degenerate. Any guy would risk death just for a chance of being your dirty little secret. I’m just the lucky one.”

“Better listen to me, if you want to stay lucky,” she says. “Or next time you try knocking on my window, I might not open it.”

“Nah.” Sliding my leg deeper between hers, I lift it slightly, pressing my thigh up into her. Above us, the umbrella wobbles in her unsteady grip. Her free hand grips my elbow, fingers digging into my arm, and I catch her biting down into her lower lip. “You’ll definitely open it.”

“Arrogant bastard,” she hisses, hips rocking against my thigh.

“Uh-huh.” I lower my voice and reply against her ear. “Needy. Little. Slut.”

A car drives by in a rush of light and rain, and Sophie shoves herself away from me with a glare and a slap on my arm for good measure. She steps back, making sure to tilt her umbrella away so it’s only sheltering her and I’m standing under a grey sheet of rain.

“Do what you’re told, Knight,” she says imperiously.

“Don’t I always, love.” I open my car door but stop just as I’m about to get in. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Are you going to that Harvard alum gala in New York? Mom mentioned your League of Extraordinary Students programme was being invited.”

Her glare deepens. “It’s called the Direct Admissions for Remarkable Talent programme.”

I grin, wiping rain out of my eyes. “That’s what I said: the Teacher’s Pets Association for Bookish Nerds.”

She kicks her muddy boot into my car door, which pushes into my legs. My grin widens. “You coming or not?”

“I am.” She doesn’t sound happy about it, which surprises me because this feels like exactly the kind of meeting of great minds that Sophie would be into. “Will you be there?”

I tilt my head. “Uh-huh…”