Ethan leaned in. ‘Don’t get him started, he’ll be on about this for days. Man’s essential nature, all that crap.’

‘I forgot,’ Oliver chuckled, ‘you essentially want to watch football and drink beer.’

‘Nothing wrong with that!’ Ethan laughed as a ringing noise came, muffled.

Oliver sighed. ‘What did I say about noise?’

‘Sorry, dude.’ Ethan fished his phone out of his pocket. ‘It’s the site.’ He made a face, then retreated a little way into the woods, out of earshot.

‘Come look.’ Oliver held the binoculars out to me.

I hesitated a moment, then got up, moving to join him at the edge of the undergrowth. I held the viewer to my eyes, adjusting to the clarity, magnifying even the smallest clump of weeds with perfect vision. ‘Wow, these are strong,’ I exclaimed.

‘Military-grade,’ Oliver replied. ‘My shells are too. I get all kinds of things online.’

I watched through the snow, Oliver standing beside me, his breath fogging the air.

‘You think about what I said?’ he said quietly.

‘You say so much, it’s hard to keep track,’ I replied glibly.

‘About being honest with yourself.’ Oliver’s hand closed over mine on the binoculars, and even through the thick knit of my mittens, I could feel his heat.

I slowly lowered the viewfinder. ‘I thought about it,’ I admitted, meeting his eyes. My heart shivered in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm.

‘And?’ Oliver arched an eyebrow.

‘And, I wonder why you even care.’ I gave a careless shrug. ‘We’re all beneath you, after all. Little chess pieces in your game.’ My eyes narrowed, determined, expecting another sarcastic comment, an ironic quirk of those eyebrows.

Instead, Oliver looked away.

‘I guess I hoped you were different,’ he whispered, as Ethan came trampling back loudly through the snow.

I took a half-step back.

‘Bad news.’ He sighed. ‘They need me on-site; someone delivered the wrong kind of insulation, and I have to go sort it out.’

‘But it’s your birthday!’ I protested.

‘It’s OK,’ Ethan said. ‘I won’t be more than a couple of hours, we can still go out for dinner like we planned.’

I made to grab my backpack, but he waved me off. ‘No, you guys stay here, you’re all set up.’

‘No way, I’m coming with you,’ I protested, but Ethan was firm.

‘I have to head straight to the site, you’d be hanging around for nothing.’ He kissed me on the forehead and grabbed his gun. ‘Stay, watch Olly in action. It’ll be fun.’

I paused, glancing back at Oliver. He smiled. ‘You’re welcome to stay, you could learn something.’

My pulse kicked. Staying out here, alone in the snow with Oliver . . . It was dangerous. Reckless. I’d spent weeks keeping my distance, trying to focus on the good with Ethan, but now, the opportunity to spend time with him all alone suddenly seemed thrilling.

Hadn’t he said, the deer knew better than to stay when they smelled trouble?

I didn’t know what his next move would be, but that was the point. In the long stretch of sameness, he was the live wire. Unpredictable. His eyes glittering bright in the sun, waiting for my response.

‘I’ll stay.’

I watched Ethan wave goodbye, turning to tramp back through the snow on the path we’d taken. His bright blue jacket weaved through the trees, getting smaller and darker. I could have changed my mind and run to catch up with him, but instead, I just watched him walk away, until finally he was gone and I was left alone with Oliver.

‘Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.’

Oliver’s voice wasn’t arch this time. Instead, he sounded almost impressed.

I smiled to myself, glad that I’d managed to do something unexpected. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To get under his skin and figure him out. It was why I’d stayed.

I turned back to him. He was drinking from the Thermos of coffee, leaning back against the frozen bark of a tree in a casual pose, all angles and cool assessing gaze.

I raised my eyebrows. ‘I thought you were never surprised. People are so dull and uninteresting, remember?’

Oliver smiled. ‘Why does it make you so angry that I say the things you already know are true?’

I felt an automatic spark of protest, but I fought to stay in control. ‘I’m not angry,’ I said lightly. I knelt down by our stack of bags and supplies and found the water, but when I straightened up again, he was still watching with a thoughtful look on his face.

‘I didn’t realize you cared so much about what people thought of you.’

I blinked. The way he said it, I knew it wasn’t a compliment. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Oliver straightened up, taking a few paces, kicking at the powdery snow. ‘How about the way you smile and act so sweet and innocent with Ethan all the time?’ He looked up, his eyes cutting through me. ‘You tie yourself up in knots to avoid showing any real emotion; I’m surprised you can function at all.’

I shivered. He was doing it again: seeing all the things I thought I’d kept so well hidden, saying my secrets out loud as if they meant nothing at all. ‘Don’t we all do that?’ I shrugged. ‘Everyone pretends to be something they’re not. Even you.’

‘No. I don’t.’ Oliver looked certain, but I laughed.

‘Sure you do. You play at being so nonchalant, but you care what people think too. Your family, Ethan . . . Imagine if he knew what you were doing,’ I added meaningfully. ‘What you did.’

‘What we did.’ Oliver corrected me with a smile. ‘And no, I don’t care. I’m not his keeper, his life is his choice. And mine are mine.’

It sounded glib, like the kind of platitudes we all said, but when I looked closer, I realized that he meant it, every single word.

He really didn’t care about the consequences, or about betraying Ethan. He didn’t care about his parents’ plans for him, or their pressure to finish school. And he didn’t care what I said or did next, if I judged him for his beliefs. In fact, I realized, with a shock of clarity, I could do anything right now. Say anything. It wouldn’t affect him at all.

My heartbeat quickened. There was something terrifying and liberating about that kind of freedom, after months of play-acting. And to live your whole life that way like Oliver claimed . . . ? I couldn’t even imagine it.