She called Amara at eight.
Amara answered on the second ring, already sounding alert in the way of someone who’d been awake for hours, which meant she’d either seen something or suspected something, and Zara didn’t have to say much before it became clear it was both.
“He pulled away,” Amara said, when Zara had finished. Not a question.
“Completely. One second he was” She stopped, aware of how absurd this sounded and unable to care. “He kissed me, Amara. Twice. And then his phone buzzed and his entire face just closed. And he left.”
The silence on the other end lasted long enough to be a particular kind of silence one where someone knows something and is deciding whether to say it.
“What,” Zara said.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Amara.”
“I said probably.” Another pause. “Marcus texted
