telling me over and over, like it matters. I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Silent, I nodded.
“Do you remember my side of the family tree?”
“Um,” I said slowly. “Your father is Theodore Harrington. Your mother is Jane Price.”
“And her mother was?”
“Alice Price.”
“And her mother was?”
“Frances Price.”
“Frances Price,” repeated Artie. “Not even the mice know where she came from. She was found as a baby and raised by the carnival and she married Jonathan Price and they were happy. They were really, really happy.”
Slowly, I started to understand what he was saying. “And when they met a cuckoo, Jonathan got caught, and Fran didn’t.”
Artie nodded. “Fran didn’t. Fran was resistant. We still don’t know why, because we don’t know anything about her side of the family tree, but Fran was resistant. And her daughter is resistant. And her kids are resistant. Which means I . . .”
“You’re resistant.” I bit my lip, staring fixedly at him. “You don’t get caught.”
“No. I don’t get caught.” He looked down at his hands, still clasped over mine. “Even when it would be easier, I don’t get caught, because whatever it is you do to peoples’ heads, I’m resistant to it. Because of who my great-grandmother was.”
“I don’t like you because of your pheromones,” I whispered.
“I don’t like you because you changed my mind so I wouldn’t have a choice,” he said.
“I like you, though,” I said. “I like you . . . I really like you, really a lot.” The words didn’t feel big enough for the way I felt about him. They felt too big to be comfortable. I was teetering on the edge of the sort of thing that couldn’t be taken back once it was said, the sort of thing that could change everything, because sometimes people didn’t want to hear it. Sometimes people just wanted to go on pretending they couldn’t see the things that were right in front of their faces.
“I like you, too,” said Artie.
I bit my lip. “So now what?” I asked. “Do we . . . I don’t want you to hide from me. I wouldn’t have come back if I wanted you to hide from me. I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but I can’t be here if you’re going to—”
He kissed me. Hands still locked over mine, pressing them down against the mattress, he leaned over and he kissed me. My eyes widened, very briefly, before they closed, before I melted into him like this was the thaw I’d been waiting for all my life, because I stopped trying to keep him out of my mind and myself out of his and let us come crashing together, him into me and me into him and he was kissing me, he was kissing me, his lips were on mine and my lips were on his and he was kissing me.
Then he pulled away with a soft hiss, letting go of my hands at the same time. The sudden loss of connection was dizzying. I blinked at him, half dazed and utterly confused.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his cheek and wincing. “I sort of forgot I had seventeen stitches in my face. Um. Ow?”
“Oh,” I said, and started laughing. Artie blinked at me, his bemusement hanging almost audible in the air. I shook my head. “I forgot, too. I forgot you got hurt, I forgot I got hurt, I forgot the whole—I forgot.”
“That’s a lot of forgetting,” said Artie. He started laughing, too, and leaned forward until our foreheads were touching. Some of the feeling of connection came springing back, but not all of it; not enough to be anything more than pleasant. I could feel his thoughts, a distant swirl of confusion, delight, and disbelief.
“I had other things on my mind,” I said. He laughed again. I leaned in, intending to go for a second kiss before this mysterious interlude into everything I’d ever wanted came crashing to an end.
Someone cleared their throat behind me. I pulled back and whipped around. James was standing in the doorway, one hand still raised to knock.
“What,” said Artie flatly. He didn’t sound happy.
“I lost the coin toss,” said James. “I was tasked to, and I am quoting here, ‘sneak up there while they can’t hear you coming and see whether they’ve figured their shit out.’ Was your shit making out like teenagers? Because if so, you appear to have figured it out, and I will hopefully never be asked