Page 145 of Problematic Summer Romance

“But”—Minami grins—“I’m really happy with how happy you two look. And this means that Maya will hang out with us all the time. We’ll have a resident youth, and no longer be cringe and out of touch.”

I make a face. “Sorry, can’t help you with that.”

“Bummer.”

“The only concern is, would the friend group survive a breakup between Hark and another member?” Sul asks. But everyone looks at Minami, which has him conceding, “Good point,” and going back to his food. I wonder if he’ll talk again tonight.

“For what it’s worth,” Conor says, sitting back in his chair, “I doubt we will. This is…it’s not a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

Minami nods. “Well, we all knew that Maya had a bit of a crush on you when she was younger, but…”

“That’s not the whole story,” he says.

“It isn’t?”

“There are a bunch of…flashbacks,” I say.

It seems to pique their curiosity. Sul drops his fork. Minami leans closer. Even Rue, despite being Rue, seems interested. “Do tell,” Eli invites.

Conor and I exchange a glance. Under the table, he takes my hand and says: “Remember a few years ago, the Mayers deal?”

We spend thatnight on the couch in Conor’s sunroom.

I lie down on top of him, sweat cooling off my skin. The scent of the citronella mixes with the evening Austin air, so similar to Sicily, so completely different.

“Antares?” He points at a red spark in the sky, and I laugh.

“That’s a plane.”

“You sure?”

“I hate you.”

I let his sigh rock me like a wave. “I think it went well,” he muses.

“I agree. Aside from Eli begging us not to elope to Vegas in the next two weeks, which makes me want to do exactly that.”

His lips quirk. A crooked smile. “Don’t say that. I’m trying very hard not to ask you to marry me.”

“Don’t stop yourself onmybehalf. I love a marriage proposal before bed.” I nibble on his shoulder. Shiver, chilly.

“Let me get you something to wear.”

“It’s fine. I’m notthatcold.”

But he’s already gently sliding from underneath me. I follow him with my eyes, his naked thighs, the slab of his back. I’ve never found men’s asses attractive, and I’m not sure why I can’t stop looking at his. It’s more the ease of him, his confidence in his body that…

Conor is coming back. But when he returns he’s not carrying a shirt, or a sweater, or anything that I would associate withwearing.

And I’m not stupid. So I sit up.

“Oh my god. You’re doing it. For real.”

He stops a few feet from me. Tilts his head, and asks, “That one’s Antares, right?”

And yes. It is. “Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you’re proposing to me, while we are both naked, after we’ve been dating for approximately a month, by pointing out my favorite star?”

“I don’t know. Did it work?”

---