T halia’s not in class the next morning. I’ve tried calling her six or seven times, and she hasn’t answered. I even went to her apartment this morning to ask her about Pax, but she didn’t answer her buzzer. I’m beginning to get worried. She may be late all the freaking time, but she never actually misses class. And she never dodges me, either. I float through my lectures in a blur, my body going through the motions, taking notes, bookmarking important cases to come back to later, but my mind is somewhere else. It’s in the dark, the sound of Raphael North’s voice sliding over my skin like silk. It’s caught on some vicious loop, trying to figure out why my meeting with Paxton Ross gave me such a tense, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s wondering where the hell Thalia is, and if I should start calling around to hospitals yet.

Later, I pick up some Chinese takeout on my way home. I sit myself down on my couch to study, but I’m all over the place. I can’t concentrate, can’t focus worth a damn.

For those fifteen seconds after Raphael removed the VR glasses, when I thought something terrible had happened to my vision, he held onto my wrists and stood so close to me. Through the panic and adrenalin, there was something so reassuring about having him standing right there, right alongside me. I have no idea why I would feel that way. He’s been nothing but professional the two times we’ve met in person. There’s something about him, though. Something captivating. Dizzying. His weird questioning, his clipped responses to my own questions—he’s a complete mystery to me. There’s no figuring him out at all. And those eyes of his…

I literally have to force myself to read the pages on the textbook in front of me, staring at every single word, committing each to memory. It’s going to be a long damn night, that’s for sure. At eight-thirty, Thalia eventually calls. I watch my phone ringing, her name flashing up on the screen, and I consider not answering for a second. I’m kind of mad at her. She’s been avoiding me, and by the looks of things, she hasn’t been honest with me, either. I don’t like dishonesty. It’s the one thing that can sour a relationship for me, even a friendship. I do answer in the end, but I don’t feel good about it.

“Hey.”

“Buzz me in. Your intercom’s not working,” she says.

So she’s outside. It’s rare that Thalia will travel all the way over to me. We usually meet by Columbia, since traveling across the city can be such a nightmare. Her coming here means something is up without a doubt. I hang up and drag myself off the couch, walking over to the intercom. I hit the entry button, waiting for the telltale buzz and click through the speaker of the door being opened and closed down on street level, but the speaker remains quiet. I’ll have to report that to the maintenance guy, Ray. Three minutes pass, and I wait by the door, chewing nervously on my thumbnail. I have no real reason to feel nervous, but I have this feeling in my gut…some niggling itch I can’t seem to satisfy.

Thalia knocks once on the door, then opens it and enters. She’s got a full face of makeup on, which is odd for her, and a black sequined dress and killer heels. She looks fantastic. And worried.

She takes in the flat look on my face and her shoulders slump. “Okay, listen. I already know what happened today, and I can explain. I should have explained a long time ago.”

I walk back to the couch and sit down. She follows, her heels clicking on the floorboards behind me. “You’d better,” I tell her. “Because I’m seriously confused right now. And confusion does not make me a happy woman.”

Thalia sits down in my armchair next the to sofa, placing her purse—very sparkly, very unlike her—in her lap. “Okay. So…” She blows out a breath, puffing her cheeks. “This is hard,” she mutters. “So…I know Raphael. He didn’t answer the ad online, though I am running that business,” she adds quickly. “I met him at boarding school. And Paxton, too. He and I used to date. We were all inseparable—me, Pax, and Raphael.”

I pull at a thread on the seam of my jeans, frowning. “Okay, Great. So why didn’t you tell me you knew him in the first place?”

“Because…I’ve told people in the past and I’ve always regretted it. I’ve watched it their eyes, the moment when they stop being interested in me as a friend, and they transition to seeing me as a way to get close to Raphael. Over the years it became really frustrating. I just stopped telling people. I stopped telling people about all of it. My parents and their money. My ridiculous upbringing. The summer-long overseas trips, and the brand new SUVs. It made people uncomfortable, and it made me uncomfortable, too. That way, when I met someone and made friends with them, I knew they wanted to hang out and spend time with me because they liked me, not because of what I have, or what I could do for them.”

“Do you honestly think I would have done that?” I ask. I’m not angry that she would lump me in with such shallow people, but I guess I am a little hurt.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I knew I could tell you everything a couple of weeks after we first met, but by then…you have to understand, Beth. My life up until I joined this program was pure chaos. It was parties every night, way too much cocaine, way too much alcohol, way too many all-nighters and fake people fawning over me. When…when everything changed and I came to Columbia, I had this opportunity to become someone else. And I liked the person I became. I put party girl Thalia to rest, and I became regular, every day Thalia. It felt good to be her. I didn’t hide the truth from you because I didn’t trust you. I hid it for me . So I could carry on being regular, every day Thalia for just a little while longer.”

I snap the thread from my jeans, winding it around my finger. “Okay. I guess I can understand that. But three years, Thalia. We’ve been friends for three years, and you’ve been keeping secrets. I hate that.”

She hangs her head. This is what true guilt looks like. I’ve seen her pretend to feel bad about plenty of things, primarily not handing in work on time, being late for everything, ever , and failing to show up at all for group assignments altogether, but this is a new look on my friend. There are red spots on her cheeks, that fiery, quicksilver glint that’s always flashing in her eyes dulled just a little. “I’m sorry. I knew this was gonna come out the moment I asked you to go see Raphael. I was planning on it coming out. I just thought I’d have more time to figure out how to tell you, and when I was going to do it. I didn’t think Pax would show up at Raph’s any time soon. I thought he was going to be in China until July at least.”

“Are you still dating him?”

“No. Kind of. When he’s in town, we meet up and have sex. We broke up a long time ago, though. He’s…he’s still Party Boy Pax. He was never going to change.” A flicker of pain passes over her face, there one second, gone the next.

“Do you still love him?”

She purses her lips, a small line forming between her eyebrows. “Yes. I suppose I always will. I’m never going to be able to not love Paxton Ross.” A storm of emotion hangs over her, heavy and oppressive. Her shoulders are rounded, her back slumped, and my own hurt dissipates just a little. Whatever happened in the past between her and Paxton has left her bereft. He must have broken her heart to still be affecting her like this, years later. “He’s not a particularly good person, though. Deep down,” she says. “It’s hard to remember that sometimes, because most of the time, when I’m with him, he’s always so fun and easy going. He has the most amazing ability to make anyone laugh, no matter the circumstances. And he’s so fucking smart and engaging. He can charm the sun out of the sky on his worst day. But then, when it comes down to it, his core beliefs and core morals…they leave something to be desired.”

“I’m sorry, Thalia. Sounds like you’re better off without the guy.”

She gives me a sad smile. “You’re right. Still, sometimes, it’s hard to bear that in mind.”

We sit in silence for a long moment, and it feels like I’m meeting the real Thalia for the very first time. How sad. After a while, I say, “And Raphael? If you’re friends with him after all this, why didn’t you just go play chess with him?”

“Well, for one I can’t play,” she says, smiling. “And secondly, Raphael struggles to spend time with me. I remind him of the past, and the past isn’t easy for him. He prefers to look to the future as often as he can. That’s why he dedicates so much of his time and energy on his projects. He wants to make tomorrow better than today. He wants to solve everyone else’s problems, but he point-blank refuses to face his own.”

This, somehow, makes sense to me. Thalia speaks about him from years of experience spending time with him, no doubt traveling, exploring the world, taking advantage of the opportunities available to a group of kids with unlimited bank accounts at their disposal. I know the truth in her words, though. There’s something deeply troubled about Raphael. Something dark and tormented, something gnawing at him from the inside out.

“He knows I’m here right now,” Thalia tells me. “And he made me promise to ask you to continue going to play with him. I know it’s a little weird now that you know the truth, but honestly, you’re the first person he’s allowed into his apartment besides a few work colleagues and Pax for a very long time. You going to play with him is progress, Beth. Progress I never thought we’d make with him. I understand if you’re mad at me for keeping things from you. I know it might not seem like much to you, these few hours you’re spending with him every week, but it means a hell of a lot to me, and to Pax. So, please…don’t stop going over there to punish me.”

I close my eyes, groaning as I fall back against the sofa, tucking my legs up underneath me. “I’m not that angry, Thalia. I’m not going to punish anyone. That’s crazy. I guess I’m just confused. If Raphael’s that unwilling to spend time with people, even his friends from high school, then why the hell would he want to spend time with me ?”

Thalia takes her cell phone out of her purse, tapping quickly. She gets up and comes to sit down beside me on the couch. “I posted this photo on Instagram a while back,” she says, showing me her phone. It’s a shot of Thalia and me standing outside a bar back when there was still snow on the ground. We’re both wearing hats and scarves, grinning into the camera. This was the night Thalia tried to knee David in the junk for hitting on her. The band actually played well that night, and the two-for-one margaritas at the bar got the better of us. We were pretty wasted by the time we went outside and took that photo. There’s no caption, only the photo. It’s been months since I’ve checked social media accounts, so I didn’t even know she’d posted it.

“He saw this,” Thalia says. “He asked about you. Who you were. How long I’d known you. I told him, and then I didn’t think anything else of it. Last week he emailed me and asked for me to arrange for you to come to play chess with him. His idea, not mine. I was shocked, but I agreed. It’s been so long since he’s shown an interest in meeting someone he doesn’t know that I just agreed right away. I still don’t know why he asked me to do it. All I know is that he’s a good guy, Beth. He’s a solid, good person. He’d never do anything untoward to make you feel uncomfortable, and he’d never do anything to hurt you. Beyond that, it’s been eighteen months since I’ve seen him face-to-face, and even then that was through a glass door. I was being selfish, too. I wanted to hear how he’s doing from someone who’s seen him recently and in person.”

“Eighteen months? God, Thalia. Is he mad at you or something?”

Sadness pours off her in waves. “No. Maybe. We still speak on the phone. Email all the time. He’s…he’s just Raphael . There’s no other way to explain it. If you keep going to play with him, I’m sure you’ll figure that out for yourself,” she says quietly. She bites on her bottom lip. “Will you still go?”

“I don’t know,” I grumble. “It would make me feel better if we could meet somewhere on neutral ground. A coffee shop, or, I don’t know…somewhere other than his apartment. The place is pretty overwhelming.”

Thalia pulls a face. “That’s not going to happen,” she says. “Public places are impossible for Raph. He’s recognized everywhere he goes.”

“What about here, then? Surely he could make the effort to come here. I know it’s not exactly the Ritz Carlton, but it’s also not a dirty, rat infested hole in the ground.”

“I know, Bee. I love your apartment. You know I love hanging out here with you. I can guarantee Raphael doesn’t think he’s too good to come to your place. I can promise you that. It’s just…he doesn’t like to risk traveling through the city. I know he’s not going to go for it. Just…please. Please keep going over there. I know he’ll be less stuffy the more time you spend together.”

I should say no. This whole situation was weird to begin with, and it just got a whole lot weirder. Despite the secrets, Thalia’s been so good to me, though. She came and looked after me for weeks when my father died. She’s stayed up all night studying with me when I’ve needed the motivation and the support. She’s consistently been a good friend to me, even when she’s been inconsistent in every other area of her life. I grab the pillow beside me and hug it to my chest, resting my chin on top of it.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll keep going. But on two conditions.”

Her eyes shine brightly, filled with relief. “Of course. Name them.”

“You have to get him to stop calling me Ms. Dreymon.”

“He’s gonna complain.”

“I don’t care. It makes me feel old, not to mention on edge.”

“Okay, I’ll make it happen. And the second condition?”

“No more money.”

“Beth!”

I hold up my hands. “I’m serious. He’s your friend. He’s one of your closest friends by the sounds of things, even with the whole refusing to meet with you in person thing. What kind of asshole would I be if I took money from him now?”

“You know he’s not paying me, right? That whole cut thing was just to make it seem more above board.”

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t take a cent from him. It’s too weird, Thalia. Just…no .”

She looks disappointed, but she nods. “Fine. I’ll tell him. He’s not going to like it, though. He’s not going to like it one bit.”