Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LAKE

85 bobas left until we both die …

Joules is acting weird. I can’t quite put my finger on why I think that, but it’s starting to irk me. He always gets up before I do and goes in the bathroom to get ready. I teased him about it, but he just laughed and didn’t say a word of either admittance or rebuttal. So, if he isn’t thinking about Kaycee in there, what is it that he’s doing?

Also, when I asked if I could grab something from the pocket of his bag, he told me no.

That’s not like him at all. I’ve never once been denied access to his things. He’s hiding something from me, and it’s starting to get on my nerves.

“If you keep secrets from me, I can’t help you, Joules. Is this about Kaycee?”

“It’s not about Kaycee,” he growls back at me, but his hands are too tight on the wheel. He’s getting too angry, too quickly. That means he’s lying to me. I turn fully to face him, adjusting my seat belt so it’s more comfortable.

Joules reaches out absently and yanks it back up from my waist to my shoulder.

“Don’t do that,” he warns me, but I don’t respond. I just sit stone-still, and I stare at him. I’ve known this man for all my twenty-two-and-three-quarter-years of my life. I can break him.

So I stay where I am, silent and unmoving, all the way from Seattle to Portland.

Five hours.

Five hours of silence.

No music or anything.

When we finally pull into the hotel parking lot, I startle awake, a bit of drool on my cheek.

Shit, I really thought I’d been staring at Joules the whole time.

“How long did I last before I passed out?” I ask, and he smirks as he puts the car in park, and then turns to look at me.

“Seven minutes.”

My mouth drops open.

“That’s a lie! I remember listening to at least three songs.”

“There were no songs playing, and you know it,” Joules tells me, and then he opens his door and gets out, and I understand the conversation we were having is over for a time. I’ll have to come at him later, or from a different angle. My eyes catch on his wrist, but all I see is the same vague outline of the mark before it’s activated.

Hmm.

We check into the hotel, and my brother collapses face-down on the bed. He never lays on the bed, no matter what I do to convince him that he deserves it. He always, always gives it to me.

I pretend to be occupied with my phone, and then I creep over to the edge of the bed. I’m going to take a closer look at his wrist, just in case. Because wouldn’t that be just like Joules to get matched and not tell me about it? He’d prioritize my life over his, and I’m not having any of that.

I reach out for his arm, intending to pull his hoodie sleeve up. He comes awake in an instant—or was never really asleep at all—and snatches me by the arm, yanking me down on the bed as he sits up.

He glares down at me and pushes dark hair off his forehead.

“Don’t you dare try to get the jump on me, Canoe. It’ll never happen.”

I groan and roll onto my back, legs bent over the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. Joules stays where he is, sitting beside me. He reaches out a hand and gives me a pat on the head.

I whip onto my side, and he draws his hand back, giving me an odd look.

“What?”

“Tam touched my head the other night,” I tell him, and Joules frowns.

“How?” he demands, so I reach out and take Joules’ hand, putting it back on my head. I use my grip on his right wrist to pat twice and then I push him away. “Just like that, huh?” Joules rubs at his chin and stares at the ugly pattern on the carpet in thought. “I have to say: Tam Eyre is a tricky motherfucker.”

“I think you two could be good friends someday.”

Joules gives me a dark look, and I laugh, flopping onto my back again.

“I thought I had him figured out, but … he isn’t anything like I thought he was.” Joules sighs in annoyance. “Maybe he’s a virgin, too? He’s really weird around you, like maybe he’s never met a girl he actually likes before.”

Now I’m laughing so hard that I have tears.

“Please! Have you seen his videos with Kaycee? Tam has serious game.”

“He has game when he’s performing. It’s all that he knows how to do—perform. In real life, he’s as helpless as you are.” Joules gives me another look. “And thank you for telling me about the head pat. That’s not good. He isn’t looking at you like a woman.”

I sit up a little, frowning.

“Why did you make me wear that ugly dress? Did you see Kaycee? She was …” I don’t have to tell Joules what she was because he already knows. I see it in the stretch of his mouth. He knows how beautiful she is. Feminine. Sexy.

“If you come on too strong, Tam is going to run. I thought he was a player at first which is why I suggested the lingerie, but honestly, he might be a na?ve virgin like you are.” I punch Joules in the arm, but he ignores me. He pushes up from the bed and heads for the bathroom. “I’m going to shower. Leave me alone for a while, will you?”

He takes his duffel bag with him and then locks the door before I hear the sound of the shower starting.

I take my phone out to check for messages from Tam.

There’s one, from a couple of hours ago.

I can’t wait until you get to work tomorrow night.

And that’s it.

He doesn’t message me again for the rest of the day or much of the next.

84 bobas left until we both die …

I’m wearing a giant foam tambourine costume.

“I hate you, Tam Eyre,” I grind out as I walk up and down the massive line selling light sticks for the concert. There was no costume the last shift that I worked, but now? The assistant manager let me know that ‘someone high up’ suggested I wear this, and then she winked at me. “I should just let the curse run out so that you die.”

But, of course, I don’t mean that. I feel guilty as soon as I say it. The Frost family loves a little dark humor, but I just can’t today.

During my lunch break, which is about thirty minutes before the show starts, my assistant manager comes in to tell me that my brother is waiting outside.

I doubt that, seeing as he’s working security inside the stadium again today. If he wanted to see me, he’d have come and grabbed me himself.

“You better have a bubble tea in hand, Sir Tom,” I state as I push open the heavy metal door and step into the alley. Tam turns around to smile at me, and there it is in his hand. I walk casually toward him and then hold out a hand. He carefully curls my fingers around the cup before releasing it into my possession.

I squint at the label, and then smirk.

“Hong Kong style milk tea? Sir Tom, I’m very proud of you. This is one of my favorites.”

“I know; I asked your brother,” he says, and I see that he’s got an unsweetened iced oolong in his other hand. Poor guy. He’s dressed in his ballcap and jacket, but the mask is pulled down to his chin, and the sunglasses are tucked into his pocket. I look around, but I don’t see Daniel anywhere.

Are we … are we alone back here?

But then there’s the purposeful scuffing of a shoe on pavement, and I see a small flash of a smile in the dark and shiver.

“Holy crap, he’s terrifying,” I breathe, and Tam looks around like he’s not sure who I’m talking about. Strawberry hair tufts gently around his ears and peeks out beneath the bill of the ballcap, layered prettily over his forehead.

“Oh, yeah.” He laughs when he realizes I’m talking about Daniel. “I’ve questioned more than once if he’s actually human.”

“Where’s Jacob?” I ask casually, toying with the straw in my drink. There’s no boba in it but that’s how it’s traditionally served, so I’m still happy. I equate milk tea and bubble tea and boba tea and iced tea as one entity.

Tam whistles and then leans his head back, closing his eyes.

“I convinced him there was a problem with my dressing room.” Tam shrugs, and then drops his chin and opens his eyes. When he gives me this big-ass shit-eating grin, I know where the conversation is going. “Do you like your new uniform?” He frowns adorably and gives me a performative once-over, like he doesn’t approve of my jeans and escape room T-shirt. “Wait, you wore clothes under the costume this time? What gives?”

I punch him in the arm, and he laughs. I notice that Daniel doesn’t interfere, doesn’t even move. Tam must’ve said something to him.

“That wasn’t my idea, okay? It was Joules’ idea.” Tam gives me such a disturbed look that I rush to explain. “I know it’s weird, but he just doesn’t want me to—”

I don’t finish my sentence. Tam has a weird expression on his face, so I just turn away and wave at him over my shoulder.

“I’ll just leave now before it gets weird. Also, I am not wearing the tambourine costume ever again. I’ll tell my manager that she can check with the higher-ups if she needs to reconfirm.”

“If you wear it, I’ll give you a bonus,” Tam calls out, but I ignore him and let the security door slam shut behind me.

That night, I take my second work break and sneak into one of the stadium entrances to peek at the concert.

Tam’s onstage, glowing under the bright lights. I can’t see him well from here, but the screens on either side of the stage are big enough to be spotted from the moon.

His cheeks have a kiss of glitter, his green eyes a dash of liner. He’s wearing that all-white outfit that he dons for “Sweet Honey”, and I find myself breathing a little harder than I should be. I didn’t have this reaction before. Is he more handsome because I’m getting to know him?

I turn away and flee back to the merch table before the concert ends, and we get swarmed.

On my way out, I buy myself the last pair of sweatpants, so I have some new pajamas to wear.

I will never tell Sir Tom that I have a pair of pants that read I Heart Tam on the ass.

Never.

83 bobas left until we both die …

Joules and I are supposed to meet Tam and Kaycee at a boba tea shop (I know, I’m sorry, it’s a lot of boba) in Portland’s Pearl District. From there, we’re going to hit the Japanese gardens, tour the Pittock Mansion, and then have Korean gimbap for dinner at this super trendy pop-up place.

I planned the itinerary at Tam’s request.

I never get to see the cities I tour, he told me. I don’t even know how to familiarize myself with a place.

I offered to help and here we are.

Our hotel isn’t far from the tea shop, so Joules walks me to the door and then curses.

“Shit, I left my wallet,” he says, digging around in his pockets. I narrow my eyes on him because that sounds like a total load of crap. “I’ll catch up with you! Don’t bother waiting around.”

“Joules Frost, don’t you dare—”

But he ignores me, turning and taking off down the sidewalk at a run that he knows I can’t keep up with.

Sigh.

“Where is he off to in such a hurry?” Tam asks from behind me, and I turn to see that he’s in full disguise mode today. I watch as he slips his sunglasses off, and then I shrug. Tam uses two fingers to tug his mask past his full mouth to his chin.

“Claims he forgot his wallet, but God only knows. He’ll be back.” I turn and try to open the door for Tam, but he beats me to it. I give him a look, and he shrugs one shoulder. “So old-fashioned,” I grumble, but I like it, and I’m only teasing.

We head inside and join the line. The space is supposed to be minimalist chic, I think, but I don’t like it. Did I complain about the fairy-tale place? This one is worse: plain gray polished concrete floors, little matchstick tables and chairs that look like they’re from Ikea, and one single plant. In all of the room, that splash of green is the only color besides people’s drinks.

“I’ll buy you two today, just to mix things up,” Tam tells me as Daniel takes a seat near the door and pretends to be waiting for someone. People are definitely slanting glances our way. If they had any clue that Tam was in this part of town, they’d recognize him. The only reason we’re not being swarmed is because people just don’t expect him to be here. Imagine Suga from BTS waltzing into a tea shop while you’re sitting there. Just doesn’t happen. You don’t see Taylor Swift at a McDonald’s, casually standing in line.

I scoot a little closer and take Tam’s arm.

“You are the worst big brother ever,” I announce, and Tam laughs. The sound is so pretty that more people turn to stare, and I spin, putting my hand over Tam’s mouth. “Stop that,” I hiss at him, dropping my palm down and trying to pretend like I’m not affected by the feel of his lips against my skin. “Don’t laugh.” Tam laughs again, and I cover his mouth. That only makes him laugh harder, and I give up. “Fine, if you want to die via fangirl swarm, that’s your problem.”

“How could that possibly happen when I have you here to keep me safe?” he teases, tugging his phone from the pocket of his jacket. It’s buzzing with an incoming call, and he answers it. “Hey, babe,” he says, and I resist the urge to fidget. Him being a superstar is bad enough, but having a girlfriend? That’s … worse in some ways. “Oh. Seriously? Do you want me to—” Tam pauses, and we inch forward with the line. “Okay then. Are you sure? Drink a lot of water and try for a nap when you can. Talk to you later.” He hangs up and puts his phone away, glancing down at me with a tiny crease between his brows. That urge to reach out and smooth it with my thumb is back, and I exhale through it.

“Everything okay?” I ask, and Tam nods.

“Kaycee needs to reshoot some scenes for her new video. She won’t be able to make it today.” Tam sounds … contemplative. But then he smiles at me, and I feel a lightness in my chest, an unraveling of tension. “Guess it’s just me and you today.”

“Unless Joules shows back up,” I remind him, but then my phone buzzes, and I dig it out.

Kaycee told me she couldn’t make it today. I left. You’re alone with him. Do the work, Canoe.

I send a poop emoji back to Joules, block him, and then worry about a potential emergency and unblock him immediately.

“Joules isn’t coming?” Tam asks, a perkiness to his voice that wasn’t there before. I give him a look and he grins. “What? I’m just excited to see what you’re like when he isn’t around.”

“I’m the same whether he’s around or not, I can promise you that.”

That statement seems to confuse Tam, but I don’t understand why. He’s so confusing. I would give my pinky finger for a peek at his thoughts. We scoot forward again and finally get our turn at the counter.

“Peppermint boba with half sweetness and almond milk,” I state, and then grin. “And since my brother’s paying”—I point at Tam—“I also want some soft serve Thai tea ice cream.” I look over to see that Tam’s lips are parted in surprise again. I seem to do that a lot, surprise him. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? “Wait. Add on a cardamom chai boba, too, please.”

“Give me the same,” Tam whispers, tapping his phone to pay. The woman behind the counter squints at him, but doesn’t say anything, and we squirrel ourselves safely away at a table in the back corner.

“Breaking our diet again, are we?” I tease. I don’t care about Tam’s diet. He’s a healthy weight, and he exercises every single day. Hell, his concerts are like a high intensity interval workout all on their own. If he wants to indulge in ice cream once a week, so what? I hesitate and adjust my hoodie. I was going to dress up for today, but Joules told me not to.

I’ve come as I always do: in a Razorbacks hoodie with jeans and sneakers. Just plain ol’ Lakelynn Frost.

“I should probably start exercising,” I mumble absently, focused on the plant across the room and not on Tam. If I live through this year, I will. I’ll make sure I keep myself healthy, but I won’t ever obsess about weight. I make that promise and then wonder if I’ll be alive to see it come to fruition.

Tam doesn’t respond to that part, but he does address the diet comment, so I know he’s listening.

“I’ll workout extra tonight,” he says, and I seriously have to wonder what that even looks like. I give him a raised brow.

“Didn’t you say that you spend an hour in the gym every day?”

“Six days a week,” he corrects, and I shake my head.

“But aren’t you also working out when you perform? What about dance practice?”

“Bonus workouts,” Tam replies easily, and then he takes off his hat, and I see a girl lean over to whisper to her friend.

I reach out and slap his ballcap back over that distinctive strawberry pink hair.

“I should’ve worn a beanie today,” he grumbles, adjusting the black ballcap again. When he reaches up to unzip his jacket, I see that he has the same escape room T-shirt that I have.

“Did you …” I don’t even finish my sentence. Tam looks down to see what I’m staring at, and then he gets a bit of color in his cheeks. He tucks his tongue against the corner of his mouth and looks toward the counter and not at me.

“I had my assistant buy me one; I was jealous.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing at that, so hard that I’m doubled over.

“Please, no. You sent your assistant to buy you a twenty-dollar escape room tee? Sir Tom, you are a strange one indeed.”

“Me?” he asks, pointing at himself. “I’m not the one who’s cursed.”

“No.” I fold my hands on the table and give him a very severe look. “You are cursed. We are cursed.” I push my sweatshirt sleeve up to show him my wrist, and Tam surprises me by reaching out to take it. His fingers are warm, just rough enough to skim over the smoothness of my skin and leave tingles in their wake.

My pulse betrays me, but at least I keep my breathing even.

“It really does look like a heart,” Tam says, rubbing at the bright red design on my wrist. I think he’s trying to not-so-subtly see if it’ll come off when he rubs it, but the back and forth of his thumb on the sensitive skin of my inner wrist is starting to make me uncomfortable.

What would it be like if he touched me this way on purpose? No. I can’t even begin to think about that until he breaks up with Kaycee. It seems that she truly likes Joules (most girls do, I guess), so hopefully she doesn’t suffer. I like her, and she’s so freaking nice.

“As far as we can tell from the family records, the mark is based on the heart nebula. It’s an emission nebula that’s seventy-five hundred light years away from Earth. It’s part of Cassiopeia.” Tam releases my wrist and I draw it back gently, pulling out my phone. I search for the heart nebula, and then turn it around so that he can see. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“That’s real?” he asks, taking my phone from me to squint at the pictures. “Holy crap.” He looks down at my wrist, so I extend it again for his comparison. The mark is on fire right now, and it hurts, but I don’t tell him that. Tam studies the screen and then takes my wrist in his hand again. “Family records?” he asks absently, and I chuckle. I take my phone back and then pull up a photo of the family archives.

“Since 1776, our family line—starting with Samuel Frost—has kept meticulous records about the curse. Not only that, but my family has learned to embrace dark humor over the years, so some of the entries are pretty funny. My favorite is from 1904 when my great-whatever-grandmother boarded a train to attend the World’s Fair in St. Louis. She got on with her Louis Vuitton luggage, took to her private room for some tea, and ended up with a stowaway barging in.” I clear my throat but leave my wrist in Tam’s hand. “She writes: the fellow was handsome enough for a vagrant, but I supposed to myself that if I were going to be forced into marriage with a thief, he should be. Is it not my right to get something of worthwhile cause from this curse? I hit him over the head with my carpet bag, and turned him into the authorities so that he would not slip away, and I could visit him in jail. It has proven a useful strategy.”

“You have that all memorized?” Tam asks with a smile that’s not quite so perfect, hitched up a little too far on one side.

“I have most of the books memorized,” I admit with a tired sigh. Some of the entries are funny. Others are … like Joe and Marla. Tam is as guarded as Marla, isn’t he? Just as guarded. “I read them all through when I was young, and then again when … last year. I got Matched with you while I was driving. I had Spotify Smart Shuffle on and one of your songs came up. I crashed into a field with a friendly cow, and had to apologize to the farmer and pay for his fence repairs.”

Tam is just staring at me, like he isn’t sure whether to laugh or run.

“How do you know when you’re Matched?” he asks, surprising me. Tam releases my arm, and I shove my sweatshirt sleeve over my hand because it feels a little bit cold all of a sudden.

“The mark burns like it’s on fire, and then it changes color. Behind your eyes, you can like … see stars or something. I don’t know. It’s just one of those things.”

“How do you know I’m your Match for sure?” he asks gently, and I laugh.

How do I explain that? There’s a knowing that comes with being matched.

“For one, the mark gets hot and painful when you’re around.” I rub at it through the fabric of my hoodie. “For two, it’s just … part of the curse. You just are. Trust me: if I thought there was any chance that you weren’t my Match, I would’ve made different choices than chasing after your tour for months on end.”

Tam says nothing, and then our order is called, and he very quickly stands up to get it.

We sit in silence, eating our ice cream and sipping our drinks.

“What’s next?” he asks me casually, and I’m so happy that the subject of the curse has been dropped that I sigh in relief. Tam notices, and he gives a little laugh under his breath.

“Japanese gardens,” I state, nodding and then setting my first drink aside with a definitive motion. All done. Every last boba consumed, mission accomplished. Time for number two. “And then Pittock Mansion. Or vice versa.”

“Your choice,” Tam tells me, pushing the rest of his ice cream aside. He’s got some serious self-control and has only eaten half.

“They both close around the same time, but it’s early. We should have no trouble visiting both.” I think for a minute. It’s spring so the Japanese gardens will be at their best; then again, the mansion has a beautiful public park and stellar views. Well, according to the reviews. I’ve never been to either. I’ve never been to Portland. I’ve never been to Oregon, period. “Okay, I’ll be the Pittock Mansion; you’re the gardens.” I hold out a fist and Tam stares at it like he has no idea what’s happening. “Rock-paper-scissors. Winner is the place we start with. Ready?”

“Ready.” He holds out a fist, that uneven smile stirring on his lips again.

We both count out rock-paper-scissors in our heads, and I win.

“Let’s go tour somebody’s old house,” I declare, standing up. I move to collect our garbage, but Tam does it for me, depositing it into a can and then rushing over to the front door to open it for me. I give a little laugh, stuff my hands in my pockets, and head outside.

“Tickets are on me this time,” I tell Tam, moving ahead to pay our entry fees before he can stop me. He does anyway, his hand on my arm. I stop and he catches up to me, turning to speak to me through his face mask.

“Too late. I bought them online.” He turns his phone so that I can see the screen, and I sigh as we pass the employee at the front and into a massive foyer with a staircase made of marble. Nice. Tam shuffles up beside me with a brochure in his hands, cracking it open as I take a look around.

It’s immediately apparent that we are the youngest people in here by a good … four decades or more?

“I didn’t pick a very exciting place, did I?” I whisper, but then I look over at Tam who’s wandered in the direction of a sitting room with a harp. He looks over his shoulder at me, his green eyes the only visible part of his face. I’m glad that he decided not to put his sunglasses back on.

“What was that?” he asks me, but I just shake my head and then trail after him. Tam is much more interested in the house than I am, stopping to read every placard and even downloading the audio tour on his phone. He pops a single earbud in and then offers me the other.

OMG, Tam Eyre’s actual earbud that’s been in his actual ear. Heh. That’s what Lynn is going to say when I tell her about this. Maybe you could collect some of his earwax? Eww. Okay, I doubt she’d go that far, but there are Tambourine fangirls who come to the merch table every single shift I work that would say that. Or worse. I’ve heard way fucking worse, things about used tissues in his hotel trash can and like … I just can’t.

“Your fans are insane.” I look up at Tam to see that his eyes are widened in response to my statement. “But you know that, right?”

“The audio tour prompted that statement … how?” he asks, pausing as an elderly gentleman approaches us, looking apologetic. Tam stiffens in preparation for a fan greeting. He really does have plenty of fans who are this old. I don’t think there’s an age group that isn’t entranced by him.

“I apologize for bothering you, but …” the man reaches up and taps at the air near his face, likely indicating Tam’s hat. “We’re indoors, son.”

Tam stares at the man as I struggle not to laugh, turning my body to the side to hide the shaking.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” Tam says politely, and then he removes his hat and I look back just in time to see him ruffle up his flattened pink-blond waves.

“I appreciate that, thank you.” The man turns and heads back to where his wife is waiting.

I’m polite enough to hold back until they’ve left the room entirely. I move into the corner away from the other museum-goers, both hands over my mouth as I laugh my way through it as quietly as I can.

“It’s not that funny, is it?” Tam asks, pausing beside me and tugging his mask down. In the end, he just takes it off and stuffs it into his pocket. He even slips out of his heavy jacket with a relieved sigh. The T-shirt he’s wearing is fitted perfectly against his body, and I feel something about that. I—

You’re turned-on, Lake. Just admit it. I feel so guilty because Tam is still Kaycee’s boyfriend. He’s not mine, and I just don’t like the feeling I’m getting out of this. It’s like we’re on a date, isn’t it? This is a date. Tam might not see it that way, but I do.

“It was pretty funny,” I admit, dropping one hand to my side, the other hovering over my mouth in case I start laughing again. This isn’t the place. It’s so quiet in here, you could hear a pin drop. The clientele are all septuagenarians or older, and I’ve got Tam’s earbud squeezed in my hand. I quickly put it in, and there’s the audio tour playing softly in the background.

“Oh, your hair is so messed-up,” I tell him, standing on my tiptoes and reaching out to ruffle it up with my fingers. Tam’s hands come out automatically and catch me on the hips to steady me, just like he did when we slammed into each other in the hallway with the hot dog costume.

My breath releases suddenly, stirring his hair, and he shivers.

Tam pushes me away from him. He’s gentle about it, but it’s a clear lack of consent. I drop my hands and fall back onto my heels. He smiles at me, like he’s trying to soften the blow, and then he spins his ballcap on his finger.

“Nobody’s going to recognize me here, are they?” he asks, and I shake my head. “I love this place.” Tam grins, and I feel this surge of triumph. See? I knew it! He really is after rejection. He likes it.

“Old people are the best,” I admit with a shrug. My grandma and I are tight. I was also close with my great-grandmother before the curse killed her. My friends were always confused as to how she could have kids when she’d never been matched. I had to explain to them like four times that you can marry or love or sleep with someone who isn’t your Match. Being matched isn’t a prerequisite for having kids.

“I love that you think that way,” Tam tells me, and then an assistant appears out of nowhere to collect his hat and jacket. I somehow thought it was just Daniel who was hanging around with us, but then I look over the edge of the staircase railing and catch sight of a few others who don’t look like they belong here.

Right.

I’m still a stranger to Tam, and we’ve got less than three months to change that and dwindling rapidly. It’s a good sign that he keeps asking me to hang out with him, but we could easily go months like this, without him ever breaking up with Kaycee.

There’s an awkward pause where I’m not sure how to respond to that, and Tam turns and wanders off without me.

I catch up to him as we finish the tour with the audiobook taking up the majority of the airtime.

At the gift shop, Tam buys his mom a three-hundred-dollar tea set and arranges to have it shipped … to wherever it is that LA address belongs. His house? His mom’s house? I know she travels with him most of the time, so I’m not sure.

I don’t ask either.

The gardens are next, and since we’re outside, Tam freely wears his disguise again. Well, the hat and mask parts of it. It’s getting a bit too warm for a coat.

There’s not much to this place either except walking in a circle and reading placards which Tam absolutely loves. He looks—as Joules put it—na?ve and adorable when he pulls his mask down to smell a flower and then wrinkles his nose.

But then he sees me watching him and hooks this look out of the corner of his eye that reminds me he’s a man with thoughts that are maybe a little less tame than this flower. He looks at me like he’s genuinely interested, and I can’t figure out for the life of me why that is. Does the curse force the Match to like the Frost family? Nobody’s ever been able to either confirm or deny that. I’d say no because plenty of us still die in the year time period, but then … what is this? I don’t understand.

“They have a teahouse at the end. No boba, but we could stop and get something to drink?” Tam says, already halfway through the audio tour for this place, too. I might be bored here, but he loves it, and it’s his reactions to the koi fish, to the pagodas, to the netsuke sculpture exhibition, that do it for me. I’m entertained.

“I’d like that,” I tell him, and he reaches out like he might take my hand or something. He doesn’t, stuffing his own hand into his pocket instead. Tam walks ahead of me on the gravel path and then pauses so that I can catch up.

We take our time, letting other people pass us, and I find myself doubly surprised when Tam sits down on a bench at the Zen garden and closes his eyes. I sit opposite him and we’re there for nearly thirty minutes of unbroken silence. He doesn’t even move.

His ballcap falls backward, and his hair catches the wind. The way the sun is positioned, it’s like he’s glowing. I shift to dispel the weird image and wonder if he isn’t sleeping. The breeze tousles his hair across his forehead, and his lashes flutter.

Tam’s eyes crack open slightly, but that heavy half-lidded transcendence remains. Was he meditating or something? He looks so peaceful right now, and I feel guilty for not experiencing this place the same way that he is. Tam is taking this whole day in, but I’m only taking Tam in.

Stupid fucking curse. I breathe out and forcibly relax.

“That was too long, wasn’t it?” he asks softly, looking up at the trees and not at me. Some of them are ripe with pink blossoms. It occurs to me that maybe Tam isn’t outside very often?

“That was just fine,” I tell him gently, because I also imagine that he has a lot of schedules and deadlines. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

That makes him sit up straight, chin dropping down so he can stare at me. He’s all stiff again, and not in a good way. Just tense. Waiting.

“Sure.” The word is clipped, but there’s something else to it, a sense of hopefulness that I have to be tender with. I can see that. Tam Eyre is a little used-up, a little jaded.

“When’s the last time you sat on a bench outside and relaxed like this?”

He exhales and faces forward, putting his hands on his knees. I can hear his employees shifting around on the sidewalk on the other side of the trees behind us, but I do my best to ignore them. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be able to get Tam alone-alone. As in, not even Daniel is present.

He’s afraid that’s what I’m trying to do, and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. What a mess.

“Never?” Tam asks, frowning and getting that little crinkle. I reach out to smooth it and then pause. He didn’t want me to touch him in the Pittock Mansion, and I’m sure he doesn’t want me to touch him now. I let my hand fall to my lap, and he watches it drop. “Never.”

“Then let’s sit here a little bit longer.” I turn away from him, and then I close my eyes.

I fall asleep quickly, and wake to my body crumpling onto the ground.

“Oh shit,” Tam breathes out, scrambling to collect me from the gravel. I’m so disoriented that I’m not even sure what happened. He lifts me up and puts me on the bench, his hands on my upper arms as he leans down to peer into my face. “Are you okay?”

“I think I just … I fell asleep,” I whisper as Tam gives my upper arms a squeeze, slides his palms to my elbows, squeezes again. Um. I look down and there’s some blood streaking my skin. He’s touched it, but he’s also knocked bits of gravel and rock loose.

Daniel is standing right behind him, studying me.

“Sorry. I had trouble sleeping last night.” I don’t say that I had trouble sleeping because of him and the curse and whatever Joules is lying about. It has to be something curse-related. It’s the only thing he would lie to me about.

“Let’s skip straight to the café, so we can hit the bathroom.” Tam helps me up, releasing me as I brush my palms on my jeans. Ouch. I’m a bit sore on my right side, cursing my luck that I couldn’t have fallen asleep and landed on Tam’s shoulder instead. I’m so embarrassed that my face feels hot, and I walk quickly out of the sand garden and down the path, following the signs to the café.

There’s only one bathroom available, and it’s the handicap space. I hesitate outside the door, but Tam grabs me by the wrist and pulls me inside. He flicks the lock, and my breath hiccups strangely.

Now we’re alone-alone.

Just me and him in this small space.

“Come here.” Tam purses his lips as he turns on the water, and I see that he really does have a few traits in common with Joules. Bossiness, being one of them. He wets his handkerchief—this one is houndstooth in pattern—with warm water, and then turns to me.

Tam takes the cloth and gently swipes it down all of the exposed skin below my sweatshirt sleeves which are pushed up to the elbow. He cleans off the blood and all the little rocks embedded in my skin. When he kneels down in front of me, it gets a little weird in there.

“Here.” He pushes the cloth through the hole in the knee of my jeans. Did that just happen? Did I just rip a new hole in my denim? How? I hiss at the stinging pain, and then freeze when Tam’s fingers grab the hem of my jeans at the ankle. “Can I roll this up?” he asks, and I just stand there. “Okay, then.” Tam shoves up my pant leg, and if it weren’t for the pain in my knee, I might’ve swooned a little there.

He cleans the wound—much bigger than the ones on my arms—and then draws a bandage out of his wallet.

“You’re kidding me, right? You carry around handkerchiefs and band-aids?”

“It’s what my dad taught me to do. I don’t know. Aren’t you lucky that I do though?” He peels the bandage apart and then smooths it over the good-sized hole in my skin. I must’ve hit something on the way down. Maybe that metal placard near the flowers?

Tam stands up suddenly, and we look at each other for a few seconds.

“I’ll wash my hands and meet you outside?” It’s a question. I nod at him, and he nods back. I’m given the handkerchief to keep, and then pushed gently out the door. He locks it, and I wait ten minutes for him on a nearby bench.

Daniel stands with his back against the brick wall of the restrooms and glares at me through narrowed gray eyes. He’s mad that Tam went into the bathroom with me and without him. I can see that. I’m just glad Jacob isn’t here.

“Sorry about that,” Tam says, smiling at me as he crunches across the gravel with his hat back on and his mask on his chin.

“No, take your time,” I tell him, although I am wondering what he was doing in that bathroom. Could be the usual sort of thing, but maybe he felt weird with me, too, and wanted a minute? Could that be it or am I reading into something that wasn’t there? He did the same thing to me at the steakhouse the other day.

We find another corner table, and Tam positions himself behind a statue. There are windows on every wall of the café, but our corner is tucked into a cluster of bamboo. We’re okay here, I think.

We order hot matcha tea and cold mochi ice cream in three flavors: black sesame, green tea, and mango.

Tam has never had mochi before, so this is yet another fresh experience, watching him bite into the cloudy dough on the outside of the ice cream.

“Huh.” It takes him a minute to warm up to the idea, but then he wolfs it all down and orders another round. I don’t tell him this, but I like seeing guys eat. I don’t know why. It’s like, a really weird trigger of mine. I’m happy seeing him happy.

“So.” I tap my fingers on the tabletop. “Are you sure you want to go to dinner? I mean, it’s just me and you.”

Fuck, Lake! Why?! I just can’t stop saying the dumbest shit around Tam. I have zero game, and I’m blowing this to hell.

“Why wouldn’t I want to go to dinner with you?” he asks, staring at me again. I’m starting to wonder if these looks he’s giving me aren’t just a part of his routine. They must be. I’ve seen him work, and he’s incredible. He could charm the panties off a nun, as my Uncle Rob annoyingly said about Tam after watching his music videos.

Uh. Okay. How do I respond to that? I glance down at my phone, pretending to have gotten a notification. What does ‘why wouldn’t I want to go to dinner with you?’ mean? All I did was ask if he was sure he wanted to keep our plans, seeing as Kaycee was supposed to be here.

Joules replies with, don’t ever ask something that dumb again. He likes you, but he’s nervous. He won’t betray Kaycee. Just keep going. I’m working my end today. She invited me to the set *peace sign emoji* Damn, Joules is good.

I glance up to find Tam watching me, his pretty mouth in a neutral line, his eyes half-lidded with concentration. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out and check my phone. I turn it around and cover the lower half with my hand to block the words.

“Just texting Joules, relax. Who hurt you, Sir Tom?”

He blinks at me and then sits up straight, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head.

“I’m just tired,” he admits, and I feel immediately guilty.

“Are you sure you have the energy to make your own gimbap for the bargain price of sixty-five-dollars a person?” Yeah, this pop-up place we’re going to is very, um, big city. Gimbap is supposed to be inexpensive, and why would you pay to make your own? Isn’t that the point of a restaurant? But it’s okay, I’ll happily go and give it my best shot. “We could grab something quicker, like at a food truck?”

“I want to go,” he tells me, shrugging again. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I always give up my days off for sleep. I’m not doing that today.”

“Why not?” I challenge, like the idiot that I am. I’m annoyed that he isn’t sleeping enough. How can I woo him if he’s tired and cranky all the time? “Nobody gets away without sleeping for long, not even you.”

“I haven’t slept properly since I was maybe, I don’t know, twelve years old?” Tam’s green-eyed gaze is a challenge. Our second order of mochi comes, and he thanks the waitress in Japanese. They start up a conversation while I sit there and listen, a smile on my face. It seems like she recognizes him, but also like she’s not the sort to run off and post online about it. Tam signs a napkin for her, and they bow to each other.

Okay, that was cute as hell.

Tam turns back to me and pretends to be distracted by his ice cream, but I won’t be fooled. I shift in my seat and wince a little as my right side protests with several uncomfortable twinges. How did I hurt myself so badly by falling off a stationary bench?

“Do you want a painkiller?” Tam asks, reaching for his wallet again. He has two ibuprofen tucked into the zippered change purse section in the middle. I don’t even know what to say, so I just tell him thank you.

“Sleep is important, Sir Tom.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asks suddenly, and then he slumps back with a laugh. “I thought we were cursed to fall in love? What are you doing? Don’t you want to go to dinner with me? Isn’t that your ultimate goal?”

My mouth just drops open, and I push my tea away from me. I am this close to walking out of there and leaving him by himself to make his own expensive gimbap.

“Excuse me? If you weren’t my Match, I would leave, and I would never see you again. This is exactly why this whole stupid thing is a curse. Some of my nuttier ancestors thought it was a blessing, but that’s laughable, isn’t it?” I chuckle and then reach across the table to steal his mango mochi. I meet his eyes in challenge, but he doesn’t stop me. “Fine. Don’t sleep. Collapse onstage. That’s your problem.”

“Not if I die, then won’t you die, too?” he asks, and he’s definitely teasing me. But is he being mean or playful? I can’t tell. “It’s your problem as much as mine.” He’s smiling a little. Maybe he’s mocking me gently, but it’s not entirely mean-spirited.

I sigh.

“Let’s go back and see the bits of the garden we missed.”

I stand up and leave Tam in the restaurant, waiting outside for him to join me.

He strolls out with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground and not at me.

“Why do you keep inviting me places?” I ask him, genuinely curious. Tam looks up suddenly, and his mouth turns down gently at the edges.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just feel comfortable around you.”

My lips part, but I don’t reply to that. Tam doesn’t give me the chance anyway, turning and walking down the path. Just like last time, he stops a ways up and waits for me to catch up.

The wind picks up a little, stinging my cheeks even if the sunlight is relatively warm. I turn to look at Tam and see that his cheeks are bright pink from this little edge of winter in our spring weather. I reach up and put my hands on either of Tam’s cheeks before I think enough about it to stop.

Crap.

I draw my hands back suddenly, but not before registering how cold Tam feels.

“Sorry, I—” My words cut off abruptly as Tam lays his own hands on the back of my neck. His palms are as cold as his cheeks, but it feels good because I’m a bit overheated in my hoodie. He doesn’t have a jacket on. There must be a happy medium for this weather that we’re not getting.

“Your skin is warm,” he tells me, like he’s surprised, and I swallow hard, reaching my hands up again and pressing my palms to his cheeks. Yep. Cold. Just like I thought.

“I run a little hot,” I explain, and the look he gives me is so devastating that an ache develops in my chest that wasn’t there before. I know what that ache is. I’ve had it a time or two before. It’s interest. I’m genuinely interested in him for maybe the first time since we met.

Even without the curse, I’d still be standing here. That’s how I feel in that moment.

“I run a little cold,” Tam explains, and I feel myself smiling back.

“My grandma always said cold hands, warm heart. Do you have a warm heart, Sir Thomas?” I drop my hands down, but it takes Tam several extra seconds before he does the same. He let me touch him. He touched me. But he also rejected me at the mansion. We’ve been all over the place today.

“Probably not,” he admits as we round the last bend in the garden and head for the exit. There are bonsai trees and little bridges and winding streams. It’s a beautiful place. If I lived here, I’d come back on the regular and just sit in that Zen garden. “I don’t think you can get to where I am without being selfish. I always put myself first.”

Whoa.

I’m surprised that he just admitted to that. I’m also not sure that’s true. We’ll see.

“How much were those meet-and-greet tickets?” Tam asks, and I give him an odd look. That’s an interesting change of subject.

“You don’t know that?” I ask him, surprised. If people are paying money for his time, shouldn’t he have some idea? “Ten-grand,” I admit, and then cringe. I paid all that for a frosty reception and a dick drawn on my bag? “You owe me a new tote bag, by the way. Can I take one from work?”

Tam stops walking so that he can laugh at me, reaching up to rub his palm over his mouth.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have drawn a dick on it, but you drew one and threw it at my head. Seemed like a fair trade.”

“Um. I wouldn’t have had to throw that at your head if the stupid security guard hadn’t banished me to the back of the line for accidentally putting my hands on the velvet rope.”

“They do that?” Tam asks, seemingly shocked by the idea.

“Only at certain venues,” I say with a tired sigh. I can’t even believe I’m standing next to the guy and having a proper conversation. I was starting to doubt Joules’ strategies. But knowing now that Tam perceived his butterflies as creeps, I just … Wow. Might be the first Frost family member whose Match has ever misinterpreted that.

“We charge four-hundred bucks,” Tam explains, and I sigh again, rubbing at my face with both hands. I turn and get in front of him on the path, poking him in the chest. Daniel remains where he is, hovering near a bench under some trees.

“Yeah, but scalpers,” I explain, sighing in frustration. “You’re not seeing any of that extra money. Doesn’t that bother you that someone is profiting off of your concert tickets? Not only that, but they’re scamming your fans out of their money. That should piss you off, Ta— Sir Tom.” I lean in to whisper. “You could dosomething about the secondhand concert ticket industry. You’re that big and important.”

“Am I?” he repeats with raised brows. He reaches out to push me in the shoulder, and then walks past, leaving me behind him. He stops again, and I jog to catch up, and I see on his face that he likes that. “You wanted to meet me that badly? Ten-grand badly?”

“There were four other people in that room with me,” I remind him as he waits for Pat to help me into the SUV. I have to say, Tam’s driver is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. I love him already.

Tam doesn’t respond, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing.

“None of them looked at me the way you do,” he says after he’s got his seat belt on. I put mine on, too, and wait for him to explain, heart pounding. I have no clue what he’s going to say, how he’s going to explain that.

“Like how?” I ask, proud that I’m managing to keep my voice steady.

“Like a stranger,” Tam tells me gently, and I can see that even if the thought is an odd one, he’s genuine. He connected with me because I looked at him like a stranger, rather than somebody I already thought I knew.

I exhale and turn to stare out the window for the rest of the drive.