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“SoIcouldn’t reinfect you.” A crooked smile spirits across Noah’s face, and he pushes away from the counter. “I’m going to see if Cassian needs any help.”

“You do that,” I say, my brain glitching as I think about Noah and what that reinfection process might look like.

Whatis wrong with me?

Knowing he’s rattled me, Noah chuckles as he walks away.

“It wouldn’t matter if I were on this hypothetical medicine,” I call after him, finding my tongue just before he reaches the door. “Because you and I aren’t happening.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looks over his shoulder as he steps outside. “Friend-zone. Padlocks. Don’t worry—I remember.”

“Good,” I say lamely.

He raises a brow, his eyes bright. “Good.”

I make a shooing motion with my hand, desperately needing a minute to remind myself for the fiftieth time that dating a vampire is a bad idea.

As soon as Noah shuts the door behind him, I close my eyes, ordering the crush-drunk butterflies in my stomach to migrate somewhere else.

“Hey, Pip.” Max startles me from my thoughts and then laughs when I jump. “Emma just pulled up. Would you care if I skipped dinner tonight?”

“You went from messing up your W-4 to going on a date?” I ask incredulously.

He shrugs, grinning.

“I don’t care. Have fun—and don’t call me Pip around the guys. I don’t need that name sticking.”

He snatches a brownie from Olivia's plate and heads toward the door. “Sure thing, Pepper.”

“Don’t call me that either!” I holler after him.

A minute later, Olivia walks in from the patio. Casually, she strolls into the living room and then deflates like a sad, day-old birthday balloon. Dejected, she turns back. “Where’s Max?”

Watching her closely, I say, “He and Emma took off.”

And yep—that’s not a happy look she’s wearing. Her eyes dart down to the brownies, and her frown grows when she realizes he took one. “Oh.”

That’s all she says. Justoh.

Then she turns to the cabinet where I keep my pitchers. “You want iced tea? I’m going to make some.”

“You likeMax,” I exclaim quietly.

“No, I just think he’s rude. You don’t show up to dinner and then leave because some pretty receptionist lures you away.”

She can say whatever she likes, but I don’t think I’m the only one wrestling with uncomfortable feelings.

Eager to change the subject, she asks, “What’s going on with Noah and Cassian?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did Cassian do something? Noah is being kind of snippy with him.”

“Noah is always snippy with Cassian,” I remind her.

“Yeah, but it seems a little more tense tonight.”

I frown. “They were okay this morning.”