“Yes,” I answered. “Will you?”

“I will. And I’d like to see you.” She cleared her throat and moved her focus to her shoes. “I came by today to tell you something. Um, something that I thought might make it easier for you to want to see me again.”

I folded my arms across my chest. She had me intrigued. “What is it?”

She forced her eyes up to mine. “I thought you should know that I’m seeing someone. I have been all year. We’re quite serious.” She fidgeted, obviously nervous. Did she think I’d be jealous?

“All right,” I said. “Congratulations.” I was schooled in how to respond in situations such as these though I didn’t feel congratulatory. I felt nothing.

She took a deep breath. “I thought that might be the reason you hadn’t returned any of my messages. Because you were worried that I…that I still…”

I cocked my head, fascinated with how she’d finish the sentence or if she’d finish it at all.

She didn’t, and after a moment of awkward silence, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to push her, wanted to see what she’d say, what she’d do. “That you still liked me?”

Her cheeks went scarlet. Interesting. “Yes. You did know, then.”

I laughed. “Everyone knew, Celia.”

She shook her head as if reconciling herself with the idea. “Okay, everyone knew. But it was a silly schoolgirl crush. I’m over it now. I have Dirk, and—”

“Dirk? That’s his name?” Immediately I pictured a long-haired hippy, though Celia would never be serious about anyone not in her social class. It wasn’t in her. He was likely proper and well-mannered and from lots of money, just as she was.

“Be nice, Hudson.” But her admonishment came with a smile. “Anyway. I have Dirk and I’m really in love with him. I think he might be the one.” She blushed again, and this time I could see that she was indeed over me.

Fascinating.

“That’s…great.” This time, I wasn’t really sure what else to say. Wasn’t certain what Celia wanted me to say.

She seemed to sense I needed more. “So you and I can go back to being friends. No more weird puppy dog eyes from me. And it shouldn’t be a big deal. Okay?” She smiled hesitantly, hopefully, as if my answer were important to her. As if my friendship were something she thought was important.

I licked my lips, salty from my earlier exertion. There was no reason to say no. And I did enjoy Celia’s company. “Sure.”

“Awesome!” Her relief was tangible. “I’ll call you. Maybe we can play tennis later this week? Or take the Jet Skis out or something?”

“Sounds good.” It also sounded dull. But she was proposing a routine summer in the Hamptons. It was what we always did and doing it again made sense. I’d find something else to occupy my boredom.

A moment of silence passed between us until it extended past comfortable to awkward. “Well, then,” Celia said, shielding her eyes from the midday sun, “I’d better be going.”

Chivalry returned to me. “I’ll walk you out.” I draped the towel around my neck and gathered my racket cover. Then we started up the path to the main house.

We were quiet as we traveled. I escorted her all the way to the circle drive where she’d left her car parked. After opening her door for her, I leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. This was standard for us. She was, after all, practically my sibling.

She placed a hand on my arm, her expression melancholy. “Thank you, Hudson. See you soon.”

I watched after her as she drove off, wondering about the change in the dynamics of our relationship. Our mothers had been best friends since we were toddlers. Every major holiday and family function had been spent with the Werners. Our parents had even enrolled us in the same elite private high school. We knew each other well, though I seriously doubted that we’d have become more than acquaintances had we not been thrown together as we were.

She should have been the perfect pairing for me. A match made in heaven. We both came from money, were already close. Yet, I had never had the slightest inclination toward her. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t feel anything for her? For anyone?

“Do you like her?” Mirabelle’s small voice questioned from behind me.

I turned to find her sitting on the front steps, her arms wrapped around her knees.

My jaw tensed with irritation. I didn’t share the emptiness of my emotions with anyone. “It’s really none of your business if I do.” I strode past her, into the house.

Mirabelle jumped up and followed close at my heels. “She’s not for you, Hudson. She’s petty and shallow and not good for you at all.”

I kept walking, heading to the main staircase.

Mirabelle continued after me. “And you don’t like her. I can see it in your eyes. You have no interest in her at all.”

That was true, but it intrigued me to think my sister had noticed. What else did she see? What did she know about me? I stopped mid-step and turned to her. “If you already know I don’t like her, then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to be sure you knew too.”

Well, I do. I didn’t say it aloud. I turned away from her and jogged the remaining steps to the upper floor, then disappeared into my room.

For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Celia and her supposed boyfriend. My chest knotted tighter and tighter as I spun the information in my mind. It wasn’t jealousy—honestly I didn’t care one way or another about her love life. It was intrigue. Obsessive intrigue. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt it, nor, I was certain, would it be the last.

The idea of love and affection consumed me. I studied it on every occasion that I could. I didn’t understand it. I’d never been in love. I didn’t believe it was even a real thing. I wasn’t virtuous in any way, nor was I inexperienced. I’d dated a few girls. Or rather, I’d taken girls out to dinner and a movie with the sole intent of fucking them afterward. Sometimes I skipped the dinner and the movie and simply fucked. But I’d never had any inclination to spend any real time with anyone. I’d never had feelings for them.

And even though Celia had set her sights on me the year before, I’d never assumed that she felt anything deeper than the silly crush she spoke of. We’d both been cut from the same cloth. We knew the ridiculousness behind romantic notions.

Or so I’d thought.

Now, she said she’d found the one. The idea boggled me.

It also challenged me.

What was it that made someone think they loved another? Could the emotion be manipulated? Forced? I decided an experiment was in order.

It was unfortunate that the results might not be too favorable for Celia. But on the other hand, if love was truly a myth as I believed, maybe I was simply saving her from a lie.

I was sunning with my laptop by the pool when Celia phoned me the next day to set up a date to get together. Feigning previous plans, I pushed our meeting off until the next week. I needed time to plan before I saw her. I was meticulous with my experiments, and this time would be no different.

I tapped my fingers rhythmically on the keyboard as I schemed. After the failure of my last study, I was eager to find success. Perhaps failure was too harsh of a word. My results hadn’t met my hypothesis, but I’d still gained information from the experiment, inconclusive as it was. I’d gotten the idea for the study after two classmates, Andrew and Jane, became engaged. They seemed to be lost for each other, dizzy in their haze of lust which they’d most likely mistaken for something more. I wondered—if they believed they were close enough that they should marry, did it mean their bond was unbreakable?

I set out to find the answer.

The three of us shared enough classes that it was easy to flirt with Jane in front of her fiancé. I did so casually at first, expecting some sort of reaction from Andrew. When none came, I upped my game. I touched Jane when we spoke, brushed my fingers against hers, played with her hair. I invaded her space. I whispered suggestive things to her—hell, dirty-as-fuck things that made her blush and her nipples stand at attention. A whole semester of this behavior and neither Jane nor Andrew had told me to stop. Shouldn’t there have been accusations? If not at me, then at each other? Were they spoken behind my back, unbeknownst to me?