Connor and Rose suddenly go quiet and very still. They exchange a few words in French to each other, and she delicately passes him his phone back. I frown. “What?” They’re holding hands now. Like a united force. My heart thuds. Connor actually removes his sunglasses, his blue eyes very calm. It makes me less nervous. “Lily,” he says, “it sort of seems like you’re trying too hard. Does that make sense?” “She understands,” Rose tells him. “You don’t have to talk down to her.” I don’t understand though. “I’m just expressing myself.” “You need to tweet more then,” he tells me. “Because the way
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