The clock read 3:06 a.m.
Claire descended the stairs with an empty glass in her hand.
Andrei was asleep on the couch.
His head rested against the back, his clothes creased, his hair untidy. One arm lay across his stomach. The other hung over the edge of the couch, his fingers almost brushing the floor.
Even asleep, he wore that crease between his brows.
Claire stopped.
The penthouse was silent around them. Beyond the tall windows, the grounds lay beneath a wash of moonlight, the trees stirring in the night breeze.
She pressed her lips together and went into the kitchen.
The glass made a soft clink against the sink. She rinsed it, set it aside, and returned upstairs.
A few minutes later, she came back with a blanket.
Andrei didn't stir as she spread it over him. She drew it up to his shoulders, smoothing it once before stepping away.
He shifted, pulled the blanket closer, and settled into it with a small pout.
Claire chuckled under her breath.
Then she stopped.
Her gaze lingered on his face before she turned and went back upstairs.
In the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed and reached for the photograph on her bedside table.
There they were.
Andrei's arm around her waist. Her head tilted toward him. Both of them smiling at whoever had been behind the camera.
Claire ran her thumb over the glass.
Santa Cruz.
She could still remember the first time she'd seen him like it was yesterday.
She and Mia had finished their final examinations, and neither of them wanted to spend the evening at home. It was also the anniversary of her grandmother's death, a day Claire had never quite known what to do with.
Mia had suggested going out.
Claire had agreed.
By the time they arrived at Blue Lagoon, she'd decided that whatever the night brought, she wasn't going to spend it thinking about examinations or dates on a calendar.
Then a man put his hands where they didn't belong.
Claire dealt with him.
She didn't need rescuing.
When she turned away, she noticed the man watching her from a short distance away.
Andrei.
He had a Moscow Mule in his hand and an expression that suggested he'd been seconds away from involving himself.
Claire lifted her eyebrows at him.
He didn't look particularly embarrassed.
That amused her.
So did he.
Claire had noticed him watching long before their eyes met. She'd been tempted to see how long he'd keep doing it, and when she finally caught him, she gave him a knowing smirk before returning to the music.
He didn't look away.
Interesting.
By the time she returned to the bar with Mia, she was warm from dancing and ready for a drink of water.
A glass appeared in front of her before she could call the bartender.
She turned.
Andrei.
"Thought you might need this," he said.
She smiled and picked up the glass.
He was even more handsome up close. That was inconvenient.
She drank without looking away from him. When she lowered the glass, his eyes briefly dropped to her mouth before returning to hers.
Ah.
So he wasn't quite as composed as he looked.
She placed the glass on the counter.
Andrei extended his hand.
"Andrei."
She slipped her fingers into his.
"Claire."
He held her gaze.
"Would you like to go on a walk with me?"
The directness of the question caught her attention. She hadn't expected him to ask, but she liked that he had.
Before she could answer, Mia leaned forward.
"Hi, handsome. Mia here."
Claire turned to find her best friend swaying on her stool.
"Oh, Mia."
Mia giggled, then nearly slid off.
Claire caught her around the waist as Andrei stepped in to help.
"Sorry," Claire said, adjusting Mia's arm around her shoulders. "She's a light drinker."
"Clearly."
Claire shot him an amused look. He smiled.
"We should get her a cab," he suggested. "Get her home safely."
"That's probably a good idea."
Outside, Claire gave the driver Mia's address. Andrei paid the fare, and together they helped Mia into the back seat.
Mia disappeared into the cab, still watching Claire until the driver pulled away.
Claire watched the taillights recede before turning back to Andrei.
For the first time that evening, it was just the two of them.
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
"What?"
Claire studied him for a moment, a mischievous thought already taking shape.
"Is that just for getting laid?"
For a moment, he stared at her.
"Of course not."
She raised her eyebrows.
"So you don't want to get laid?"
"Yes—"
He stopped.
"No. That's not what I meant."
Claire burst out laughing.
Andrei shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth.
"I was trying to be helpful."
"Of course you were."
"I was."
"I'm sure."
She tilted her head at him.
"I was just pulling your leg."
"I realised."
"Eventually."
His mouth twitched.
Claire grinned. He was quieter than she'd expected, but there was a dry edge to his replies that kept catching her off guard.
"Let me walk you home," he said.
He placed his hands behind his back as he waited for her answer.
Claire took a moment to look at him.
"Okay," she said. "It wouldn't hurt."
Then, because keeping the thought to herself seemed pointless, she added, "Besides, you're cute."
Andrei stared at her.
Then he laughed, so unexpectedly that Claire's grin widened.
She'd have to remember that.
He was still recovering when she started down the pavement.
"Are you coming, handsome?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Claire laughed and continued walking.
He fell into step beside her.
The walk passed too quickly.
By the time they reached the hotel, Claire had forgotten that Andrei was supposed to be walking her home.
She noticed the name above the entrance only when he slowed beside the doors.
She looked up at him.
"This isn't my home."
"No," Andrei said.
She glanced at the entrance, then back at him. A smile tugged at her lips.
"Are you lost, handsome?"
His mouth twitched.
"I might be."
Claire laughed.
She could have reminded him that she'd agreed to let him walk her home. Instead, she followed him inside.
Neither of them seemed particularly interested in correcting the detour.
Upstairs, the conversation continued. Claire couldn't have said how long they stood talking or when the distance between them began to disappear. She only remembered laughing at something he said, reaching for his arm, and finding his eyes already on her.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"You keep saying that."
"And you keep asking."
She rolled her eyes, still smiling.
Then the laughter faded.
Andrei was looking at her differently now.
Claire's smile softened, but she didn't look away. When he lifted his hand to her cheek, she leaned into his touch.
"Claire."
She answered by kissing him.
For a heartbeat, he was still.
Then his arm settled around her waist, drawing her closer, and she forgot whatever clever thing she'd been about to say.
It wasn't something she'd planned on the walk over. She doubted he'd planned it either.
But when he kissed her again, she didn't want him to stop.
She had never been with anyone before.
The realization came to her somewhere between his hand settling at her waist and the moment she found herself holding him closer. She had imagined her first time before, in passing, perhaps with a little more thought than she cared to admit. She had never imagined it happening like this, with a man she'd met only hours ago, in a hotel room she hadn't intended to enter.
And yet, when Andrei paused long enough to look at her, she didn't pull away.
She kissed him again.
That was how it happened. Not because she'd come looking for it, or because she'd made some secret decision about him, but because, in that moment, she wanted him.
Morning came too soon.
Claire lay beside him, watching the light creep across the unfamiliar room. Andrei was still asleep, one arm resting near her pillow.
She studied his face, wondering how a man she'd known for barely a day could already feel so familiar.
Then he opened his eyes.
"Good morning."
Claire smiled.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself."
He reached for her hand.
"Would you prefer I looked miserable?"
"Consider it."
He brought her knuckles to his lips.
She laughed and turned her face into the pillow.
Later, Mia gave her an earful.
Claire let her talk.
Then she went to see Andrei.
The photograph had been taken that afternoon.
They spent the day wandering around Santa Cruz without much of a plan. Claire chose where they went, changed her mind halfway there, and dragged Andrei into places he would never have entered on his own.
He followed.
Mostly without complaint.
At a small café, she stole food from his plate.
He pushed the rest toward her.
"Are you going to eat yours?" he asked.
"I'm sampling yours."
"You've sampled half of it."
"It's a very good sample."
He shook his head.
Claire laughed.
Later, they walked by the water, the afternoon sun scattering across the waves. She talked about the places she wanted to see, the things she wanted to do, the life she imagined beyond Santa Cruz.
Andrei listened.
Sometimes he asked a question. Sometimes he offered a quiet observation that made her stop and look at him again.
She liked that he listened without trying to turn every conversation toward himself.
She liked that she could tease him without having to work for his attention.
And she liked the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't watching.
When someone offered to take their photograph, Andrei drew her against his side.
Claire leaned into him.
The picture caught them laughing.
Afterward, she took the photograph from him and examined it.
"You look happy."
"So do you."
"I asked about you."
"And I answered."
She rolled her eyes.
He took the frame back from her, still smiling.
They spent the rest of the day together.
By evening, Claire had stopped checking the time.
She didn't ask what would happen when he left. He didn't volunteer an answer.
For two days, neither of them seemed in a hurry to think beyond the next hour.
On the third day, his phone rang.
Andrei stood by the windows when Claire looked up from the couch.
The call had been going on for a while. He spoke little, listening more than he talked. Occasionally, he asked a question or gave a short reply.
When he finally ended the call, he remained by the window.
Claire watched him.
"What is it?"
He turned.
"I need to return to New York tomorrow, moya petarda."
Her smile faded.
"Oh."
He crossed the room and sat beside her, taking her hands in his.
"Come with me."
Claire blinked.
"To New York?"
He studied her face before continuing.
"There's more opportunity there. You could work, study, do whatever you want. We could—"
"I will go."
Andrei stopped.
Claire lowered her eyes to their joined hands.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he caught her by the arms.
"You'll come with me?"
She nodded.
He stared at her as if waiting for her to change her mind.
Claire looked up and smiled.
Andrei sprang to his feet.
"Yes!"
He threw both hands into the air.
Claire burst out laughing.
Before she could get another word out, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the couch.
"Andrei!"
He spun her around, laughing, and she clutched his shoulders.
When he finally set her down, he kept his hands at her waist.
His smile was still there.
Claire reached up and touched his cheek.
Then he kissed her.
She slid her arms around his neck, rising onto her toes as he drew her closer.
When they separated, she was breathless.
"You're going to have to help me pack," she whispered.
Andrei rested his forehead against hers.
"Anything you want, petarda."
She smiled.
"Careful. I'll remember that."
"I know."
Mia arrived at Claire's grandmother's house to find half the bedroom packed into suitcases.
She stopped in the doorway.
"Are you serious?"
Claire glanced up from the open suitcase.
"Hello to you too."
"You're leaving tomorrow?"
"That's the plan."
"With him?"
Claire gave her a look.
"Who else?"
Mia shut the door behind her and stared at the clothes scattered across the bed.
"Claire, you've known this man for three days."
"Nearly."
"Don't start."
Claire smiled and returned to folding her clothes.
Mia picked up a shirt from the bed and put it into the suitcase.
"You barely know him. It's bad enough that you gave him your V card on the first night you met. Now you're moving to the other side of the country with him, where you know nobody."
Claire continued packing.
Mia turned to her.
"You have no family there, no one to turn to if anything goes wrong—"
Claire looked at her pointedly.
Mia stopped.
She set the shirt down.
"Okay, fine. You have no family here either, but you have me."
Claire's expression softened.
Mia sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Still, you've been here your whole life. You're suddenly moving away from everything you know. Doesn't that scare you? I know you've always wanted to leave Santa Cruz and see the world, but this is so sudden. Hell, we've barely finished school. We don't even have our lives in order."
Claire packed the last of her things and closed the suitcase. Then she sat beside Mia.
For a moment, Claire looked around the room. The familiar curtains. The wardrobe her grandmother had insisted was too good to replace. The old marks on the wall that had survived every rearrangement of the furniture.
Then she looked at Mia.
"I know you're worried," she said. "And I understand why."
Mia watched her.
"But I want to take this risk. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I'd gone with him."
Mia's shoulders dropped.
She glanced at the suitcase.
"I've found something I want, Mia. I want to see where it takes me."
Mia was quiet for a moment.
Then she threw her hands up.
"What if he's a human trafficker? Or an organ harvester?"
Claire raised her eyebrows.
"Seriously?"
"You can never be too careful."
"Mia."
"Okay, fine." Mia sighed. "I respect your decision."
She nudged Claire's shoulder.
"Besides you've always been too audacious for your own good."
Claire laughed and leaned against her.
"Yet you still love me."
"Unfortunately."
Mia pulled her into a hug.
Claire held on.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Mia drew back and pointed a finger at her.
"You will call me."
"I will."
"Regularly."
"Yes."
"And I want updates."
"You'll get them."
"Actual updates, Claire."
Claire laughed.
"Fine."
Mia hugged her again, tighter this time.
When they separated, she wiped her face and immediately pretended she hadn't.
"Right," she said, reaching for the next suitcase. "Let's get you packed before I develop enough sense to stop you."
Claire smiled and handed her a stack of clothes.
"That's my girl."
The airport in San José was busy the following day.
After the drive from Santa Cruz, Claire stood beside Andrei in the departure terminal, her passport in hand.
Announcements echoed overhead. Suitcases rolled across the polished floor, and families gathered near the departure gates, some embracing, others hurrying through last-minute instructions.
Andrei glanced at her.
"Ready?"
Claire looked toward the windows, where aircraft moved slowly across the tarmac.
Then she slipped her hand into his.
"Let's go."
They boarded the first-class cabin and settled into their seats. Andrei helped her stow her bag before sitting beside her.
As the plane began to move, Claire turned toward the window.
Santa Cruz slipped away beneath them.
She watched until the coastline disappeared.
Then she settled against Andrei's shoulder.
He took her hand and kissed her fingers.
Claire closed her eyes.
The photograph shifted slightly in Claire's hands as her fingers tightened around the frame.
She looked down at it again.
Her younger self was still smiling.
For a moment, she stayed there, holding the picture.
Then she set it back on the bedside table.
A faint sound came from downstairs.
Claire turned toward the door and listened.
Nothing followed.
Then she switched off the bedside lamp.
The room fell dark, leaving only the faint light from the windows.
Claire lay down without pulling the covers over herself, leaving the bed untouched on the other side.
And downstairs, Andrei slept beneath the blanket she'd brought him.