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Another surprise comes when he looks away bashfully, and I can even make out a blush in the dim, distant light of the party central. With everything I know about him, how straightforward and factual he is, I didn’t think anything could embarrass him or make him feel even remotely bashful.

“Tell me more about your app,” I blurt out, without even thinking. “You said it’s called ESoothe?”

“Yes.” His voice is quiet now, almost a whisper.

“Why did you decide to study all that stuff? How did you come up with the idea?”

I might be acting pushy—at least by my standards—but I’m seriously fascinated, and I want to hear him talk about it again. It’s like his whole demeanor changes.

“Well,” he starts out slowly. “I knew I had to learn a lot more, and my research told me Harvard had all the courses I needed in the same place and with very good professors.”

“I bet,” I murmur, hoping it doesn’t bring him back to his subdued mood.

“And as far as the idea...” He trails off, but the frown that’s back on his face has me thinking it might be better if I wait him out. I think if he doesn’t want to tell me he’ll just say that, right?

His shoulders drop as he looks up. This time he holds eye contact with me for a full two seconds—yes, I count—and I see resolve in his eyes .

“I’m Autistic.”

I nod to show I understand and because I have no clue what to say.

“I have a very mild case, considering, but I’m very bad at.

.. peopling, is what my mom calls it sometimes.

” The tips of his lips are raised just a bit, so I think it’s a good thing.

“It means I can’t read facial expressions and connect them to emotions innately the way you probably can.

I have to analyze people and get to know them really, really well to understand them without having to wonder.

It’s a constant guessing game and that’s tiring.

I don’t process life the way you do, and for me it’s most obvious with sounds. ”

“That’s why you were wearing your earbuds,” I say as the realization comes to me.

“Exactly.” He nods. “I also have social anxiety, which has gotten a lot better over the years. That comes from my upbringing. Traveling around with my parents for most of my childhood meant I never really got the hang of being around other kids my age, and to be honest I never really wanted to.” He says that last part in a whisper, like a confession, and again he has me smiling.

He’s funny, but I suspect he doesn’t mean to be, so I tame down my smile and keep listening.

“The first time I ever really did was at Juilliard, and even with my parents so close all the time, it was too much for me most days, so I spent a lot of the time there with earbuds on and curating playlists for myself.”

“That’s impressive,” I murmur.

“Yes, well...” He trails off, and shakes his head.

“It really is,” I argue .

“It doesn’t feel like that to me.”

“Why not? What does it feel like to you?”

“Like it’s the only logical path for me.”

Again, he’s so matter of fact, I can’t even think about arguing further.

“So this party.” I wave a hand around. “Must be stressful for you, right?”

“Yes.” He nods emphatically, and again I have to force back a smile.

“Even though I’ve known Wolf and Hawk all their lives because our parents were close—even after their father died—I’m not that close to them.

And I do know Tristan, like I told you, but he’s a business associate, and I have no clue what to talk to him about when we’re not in that setting.

Sterling is just...” He shakes his head with eyes wide open, and I think I get it.

“He’s bigger,” I guess. “Not literally, but his presence, his personality, all of it is big.”

“Yes.” Again he nods his head a few times, and this time his eyes tell me he’s surprised I get it. “It’s overwhelming.”

“And they all know you enough not to...” I take a moment to think of how to word it. “Crowd you,” I settle on.

“Exactly, but then, that damn birthday song and the cake and everyone crammed together.”

“I get it,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, and I lean back on my hands as I cross my legs in front of me. “I mean, I don’t because I don’t have social anxiety and as far as I know I’m not Autistic,” I correct. “But I can imagine how, for you, it must be a difficult situation.”

“It’s also the fact that there are so many people I don’t know. CJ, even. It’s his birthday and I don’t know him, so why am I here? Why did he invite me? And my siblings?”

“Because you’re all important to Wolf, and Wolf is important to CJ.” I shrug and make it as simple as I can. “It’s not something you have to do for your own birthday party. I bet no one who knows you expects you to ever do anything other people do.”

He stays quiet a while, and now his lowered shoulders scream resignation.

I feel like that’s my fault, so I think fast.

“I know everyone at this party. Some only by name or reputation, but most people I’m close with because this is my family.

” I nod down to the party central. “They’re the ones who have chosen me just like I chose them, so I can give you a.

.. cheat sheet, if you will. I can tell you everyone’s basics, and that way, you can know them. ”

What the hell am I talking about? That is so lame.

Like I said before, I have no idea what Liam goes through day-to-day, so who the fuck am I to tell him he’ll be more comfortable if I tell him a few facts about my friends.

His frown is fully back and I know he’s going to tell me to fuck off—maybe verbatim since he’s so direct—but he keeps on surprising me.

“In theory that could work,” he says thoughtfully. “I have no experience trying, though, so we’ll have to see.”

“What things have worked in the past?” I ask, grasping on to the chance to keep talking to him.

“My parents usually tell people to be straightforward with me, and to not hug me.”

I nod in understanding .

“I can tell them all that, sure, and I want you to know they’ll all respect it. If you tell them they need to express their emotions verbally, then they’ll do that too, and you won’t have to keep guessing all the time.”

He releases a big breath—it’s one of relief, I’m sure.

“All right.” He nods for me to go on, so I start easy.

“Right, so you know who Adam is, right?”

“Yes, Adam Darnell.”

“So, he always scratches his neck when he’s feeling nervous or insecure. Don’t go telling that to anyone in any other football teams, huh?” I point at him and smile, hoping he understands that’s a joke, but looking at me seriously he shakes his head.

“That would be highly unethical,” he tells me, but then his eyes open wide and he nods a few times. “You’re not serious.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking you’d do that, but see, you’re already understanding my lame attempts at humor.” I laugh at myself and remember Liam said he liked my laugh when he closes his eyes and just listens.