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mannequin. I’d like to protest, but he squeezes my hand with reassurance and I know to follow his lead.
    His hold on me is tight and I haven’t forgotten that Teo has saved me. Saved us. He has provided us with asylum from the monsters outside, carefully built this world and invited me into it. So, really, what I should be feeling is gracious to him. Teo is honoring me. Here I stand above these other couples, supposedly as their crowning jewel. Their Persephone. While the implication is a bit ostentatious for my taste, Teo deserves my thanks. I should give it.
    I turn to him then, allow him to lift my hand, and I graze my trembling fingers along his strong lips. And he holds them there like that, moving my fingers down his stubbled jaw. The strong lines and dark skin of his face make it hard to breathe; I wish I could pull him close for a kiss.
    Teo’s gaze warms me, making me feel like jellyfish and coals. “These are your friends,” he says, breathing into my ear. He points down the stairs. “Do you see the blonds? They are quite amusing, don’t you think?”
    I see who he means; there are four people with long blond hair, two girls and two boys, by a counter jam-packed with food. But the girls wear elaborate medieval dresses, and the boys wear skater clothes—one with a pink and green streak of color in his hair. They seem to be playing a quiet, subdued game of charades.
    “You’ve met Marc and Cleo.” Teo gestures to where they sit on a tasseled couch against the wall. “They make a stunning pair, don’t you think?” And it’s true, though everything about Cleo tends to burrow beneath my skin. Her arms wrap possessively around Marcus’s neck and she whispers something into his ear. Whatever. Maybe he has a thing for streetwalkers over heatstroke victims who come across his front porch.
    A few other people cluster around a dining room table to the side, but Teo leads me away from the top before I can take a closer look. We travel down the curved staircase as everyone in the room stiffens. A plump girl wearing an orange sari and scarf on her head balances a plate of veggies on her lap where she sits on the other couch. She gropes for her partner’s hand, but he jerks his hand back. What a douche.
    At the foot of the stairs, Teo clutches my waist the way I have always dreamed he would. It’s tight, possessive, and I am only too happy to be wanted by someone else. It reminds me of the two seahorses I saw at Sea World when I was little. My mom explained how their tails curl together when they’ve found their true love. It’s nice to feel connected to someone. Plus, Teo’s never held me like this before; our moments have been like captured fireflies—cherished, and much too soon released.
    Someone mumbles from the kitchen table, an elaborate hunk of wood with hieroglyphics and large, clawed lions’ feet. Two of the boys—one in overalls, the other in a plaid shirt—make me realize the women are the only ones wearing costumes. But the costumes are so random, so eclectic; it almost makes me wonder if Teo raided a high school theater’s closet and said, “Here you go.”
    Teo grips my waist hard, which reminds me of how he hates mumbling in class. It is time for you to learn eloquence , he said as he had us listen to Gregorian chants. “Someone has a comment,” Teo says. “I’d like to hear it. Perhaps you would like to comment on Persephone’s name?”
    I let my gaze shift over to the two blond couples again—they’ve discontinued their low-profile game of charades. They all look so shiny and alike. I think of one of those outdated Doublemint Gum commercials my mother laughed at when I was small, with sets of twins smiling in every scene. Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun . Only the two couples are missing their smiles. Teo has that effect on people—he makes them smile less and think more.
    None of the couples around the table are talking, and Teo’s fingers dig into my waist. The three