I whispered. Ben turned to me, eyes widening, in the backseat of the car sent by the bed and breakfast. “You can tell already?” I nodded, almost as surprised as he was. I’d felt something even as our train approached the Napoli Centrale station about two hours after leaving the Roma Termini. But “something,” that’s a pretty vague feeling. Sure, it could have been something psychic. Or it could have been a boost in blood sugar from breakfast, you know? Or it could have been the pleasure of Ben’s company, heightened by the fear of losing that if I canceled the curse. No, when. Definitely when I canceled it. Damn it. Is everything okay? he’d asked me, when I got out of the bathroom. He’d pulled jeans on, and another maroon T-shirt. I’m sorry. I don’t do this that often, so I might have neglected some kind of morning-after expression of, uh, gratitude or… That was the Ben I couldn’t take advantage of.
