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"I want to know the truth." Lukas cocks his head to one side. "Cole said I should ask you for it, but that it'd be hard to get it from you."

"So if I lose..."

"You have to tell me whatever this truth Cole is referring to is. Or he'll tell me if I ask."

There's no way I'm risking so much for nothing. "What do I get if I win?"

"Me."

I blink up at him. "You..."

"On your side. Against Cole." He raises his pale brows at me. "Thatiswhat you're up to, right? You declared war on him the moment you crossed him."

"That's..." I feel like I've crossed over into an episode ofThe Twilight Zone."I helped a girl get her purse out of a tree."

"No, you stood up and didn't flinch. Cole isn't used to that. I'd like to see how far it can go."

He doesn't sayI'd like to see you win,I notice. Lukas has his own games to play. But I can't turn down the offer he's giving me, no matter how insincere.

"Game on."

I stick my hand out for him to shake, and he looks down at me bemusedly. "Americans. We should seal it with a kiss."

"Fat cha—"

But he doesn't swoop down to press his lips against my mouth. He takes my hand in his soft fingers, bends elegantly at the waist, and plants an absurd kiss against the back of my hand.

Shivers run up and down my spine.

The press of his skin on mine is electric.

His mouth comes so close to touch the snake bite scar that it pulses with an echo of pain.

"There."

He draws back from me. The spot where his mouth just touched me is on fire. Anger courses through me, hot and uneven. Warm, embarrassing desire to be touched everywhere by his soft, gentle hands flushes my body. It's massively unfair; he shouldn't have done it without warning. A boy like him doesn't have the right to do that to a girl like me.

The first thing I'll tell him after I win this bet is never to touch me again.

"Let's do this thing."

Lukas moves towards the wall with me and stays a few feet back, like the instructor told him to. I can feel his eyes on my back as I approach the wall. I stare at it from a distance, studying the gaps in the holds further up. They're abundant and close together down low, but zig zag awkwardly further up, all the way until they reach a little ledge that marks the end of this particular challenge. I'll have to be strategic if I want to win.

It's easy enough to get up the first five feet or so. I can feel the rope tighten as I go further up, and when I look down Lukas is there, his blue eyes steady, no hint of deception in their depths.

Do you trust me.

I'd have to be a fool to trust him.

I trust my feet and hands. I trust a strength honed by summer days near the river, climbing trees, swimming against the current, chasing my brother through the shallows of the riverbank, laughing when Maggie put mud in his hair. Lukas DuPont can pull the rug out from under me, but I won't fall down if I'm holding on with my own strength.

The further up I get, the shallower and farther apart the holds become. I have to cram my fingers into them and pull myself up with my arms fully extended. I'm wearing my thickest, toughest-soled shoes, but more than once I lose my footing and have to readjust.

"You can always give in," Lukas calls up as I nearly slip. "Whatever this thing is Cole hinted at, it can't be that bad."

"I'm not saying 'uncle.'"

"Why would you say that? None of your relatives are here."