Page 68 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

Under my hand, Oliver’s chest rumbled with laughter, and although I’d missed most of the story, I smiled too. It was good to see him having fun with our friends. I could picture a future where he and I and my friends and their partners did things together. I was starting not to mind the crowd of people in my home.

Lucie said, “Props to Audrey. You’ve got to respect someone so committed to running the show.”

“I’m not so sure,” Andrew said. “She has eyes everywhere. I thought it’d be over when I left home, but she knows everything I do.” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s because you’re a public figure now, sweetie.” Carly laid her hand on his arm. “She watches your math videos. We can’t even be frenemies anymore.” Carly leaned toward Lucie and me. “After she got over the initial shock of Andrew leaving a high-paying job to star in dorky math videos, she became his biggest supporter. Not a week goes by when some school doesn’t call him because Audrey suggested it.”

“That’s sweet and also cringe,” Lucie said. “What are your parents like, Oliver?”

“Cold and stuffy,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong—they’re proud of me, but there’s a reason I live on the opposite side of the country.”

“God, I wish I’d thought to move two thousand miles away from my cold, stuffy parents,” Lucie said. “But that’s perfect. Plus, you’ll never have to meet Tessa’s parents either.”

My skin went cold with premonition as Carly reached for my hand. Her mother had died a long time ago too.

“Actually, I already met her dad,” he said.

My cheeks went hot as my friends stared at me. “Wait, I thought your dad was dead,” Lucie said.

“No, he’s only eccentric,” Oliver continued cluelessly. “He organized a protest at the lab.”

“What?” Lucie ground her jaw. She hated dishonesty. And even though I’d never said my dad was dead, I’d let my friends believe it. It was easier than explaining my fucked-up childhood. I didn’t want their pity.

“They don’t know?” Oliver asked, his eyes wide behind his glasses. His hair flopped over them in a way that seemed adorable that morning but now I found irritating. Ice-cold anger crawled through my veins.

“Come with me.” I turned and jogged up the stairs. A second later, his footsteps echoed behind me. I stormed to the farthest guest room, the one where I’d closed up the girls, and stood in the middle of it, arms crossed. Anita leaped off the bed and rubbed against my leg.

Oliver stopped in the doorway. “Look, I’m sor?—”

“Close the door.”

He stepped fully into the room and shut the door with a soft click. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you hadn’t told them about your dad.Whydidn’t you tell them?”

“Because it’s not something I’m proud of, and it’s none of their business.”

“But they’re your friends.”

“Exactly.Myfriends. Which means you have no right to decide what they know about and what they don’t.”

“But…” He tilted his head. “Don’t you trust them?”

“I do. Now I don’t trust you.” Like she was telling me how unreasonable I was being, Anita meowed. I bent and picked her up. But instead of flopping onto my shoulder the way she usually did, she leaned over my forearm and watched Oliver, flicking her tail.

He paled. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

“I don’t know.” I stared down at Anita’s soft blue-gray fur. What he’d done wasn’t so terrible. I’d have eventually told my friends, maybe on a night when I’d had an extra glass of wine. When Savannah was beside me.Shehadn’t told anyone, so I could trust her.

Unlike Oliver.

When he stepped closer, Anita shifted her weight toward him. He held out his hands, and she leaped into them. She turned and glared at me as if to remind me,We like him.

We did. Which made it hard to despise him, even after he’d broken my trust.

“I’ll do anything,” he pleaded. “I won’t speak for a week. I’ll wear a hair shirt.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds itchy.”

“I’ll write that sonnet about you. It’ll be awful.”

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