The gallery was quiet, soft music drifted from the speakers, mixing with the faint scent of paint and paper in the air. Lynda felt calm around her, but inside, her heart would not just settle down. Earlier, Eleven’s hand had brushed hers, and she was still sensing that lingering warmth on her skin. She knew she should feel guilty, but a small part of her felt more alive than ever.

Eleven stood by her side, looking at a painting of swirling blues and gold. He was quiet at first, and finally he ...