We ended up sitting on the curb outside a 24-hour convenience store, eating spicy ramen out of paper cups and drinking cheap sodas. Luca stood by the car twenty feet away, looking like a gargoyle in a suit, refusing to eat anything that wasn't pre-scanned for poison.

  "You know," Ambrose said, slurping his noodles loudly. "This is the first time I’ve eaten outside. Like, actually outside on the ground."

  "Your life is depressing," I said, though I didn't mean it as an insult this time.

  "It’s just quiet," he replied, looking up at the smoggy city stars. "In my house, every meal is a performance. Every word is a move on a chessboard. But here..." He looked at me, his blue eyes soft. "Here, I’m just a guy who’s bad at air-hockey and likes spicy noodles."

  I looked at him—really looked at him. Without the blazer and the fake "perfect" smile, he looked younger. Vulnerable. "I still don't like you bothering me at school," I said, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

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  "I’ll dial it back," Ambrose promised, holding up a hand. "Fifty percent less bothering. Maybe forty. But I’m not going away, Hitori. You’re the only person who doesn't taste like sugar and lies."

  "That’s the most poetic way anyone has ever called me an asshole," I deadpanned.

  Ambrose laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made a few passersby turn their heads. For a moment, I forgot about the assassins in my living room, the trackers in my phone, and the weight of the family business. I was just a teenager with messy hair and fixed glasses, sitting on a curb with a boy who was far too much trouble.

  "Hey, Hitori?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Thanks. For the ramen. And for... you know. Everything."

  I stared at the bottom of my ramen cup. "Whatever. Just don't make it weird."

  "Too late," he smirked, leaning his head back against the brick wall. "I’m already planning where we're going next week."

  I sighed, but I didn't say no. As we sat there in the cooling evening air, I realized that for someone who had spent his whole life moving around to avoid making connections, I had done a very bad job of staying unattached.