Niamh makes a disparaging noise in her throat. “He’s not the reason people stared at you.” I spin around, and she nearly walks into me. “What does that mean?” I demand, even though I know very well what it means. I know why people stare at me. Of course Niamh would find the meanest possible way to say, “You’re beautiful.” It’s another thing I can’t help that she holds against me. At least she has the decency to look embarrassed. “I mean . . .” She looks at the ground. “I don’t know what I mean . . .” I step closer to her. “Don’t you?”
