In this light, she looks like she comes from another world, her eyes rendered so pale they almost seem to glow in the dark.
“You’ve been paying close attention, haven’t you?” she asks, like she just read my mind. But she’s not talking about me looking at her face.
“I like to observe people,” I say slyly.
“Maybe you were cut out for Candor, Four, because you’re a terrible liar.”
I set my hand down next to hers and lean closer. “Fine.” Her long, narrow nose is no longer swollen from the attack, and neither is her mouth. She has a nice mouth. “I watched you because I like you. And . . . don’t call me ‘Four,’ okay? It’s . . . nice. To hear my name again.”
She looks momentarily bewildered.
“But you’re older than I am . . . Tobias.”
It sounds so good when she says it. Like it’s nothing to
