Oscar rests the bottom of his beer bottle on his thigh. “Look, I just have to ask…are you interested in Joana?” My brows shoot up. “She’s nineteen. She’s your sister.” He groans at himself. “I know. I know.” He rubs a hand down his face. “I’m just reexamining this”—he motions between us—“way too much.” He’s reexamining us?
