At Kyer’s door.
His light was on, which meant someone in the home was out late. Did he and Lyra go on a date? If so, we hadn’t seen them at the Archives. Was he at Lyra’s house right this moment? Doing what?
I pictured them both sitting on her bed—it was easy enough, as all bedrooms looked alike, mine, my parents’, Kyer’s. I saw him holding her hand, or easing her back against the pillows, or kissing her the way I had kissed Brin. My whole body clenched like a fist at the thought of his lips touching hers.
Then the image shifted and it wasn’t her bed at all. It was mine. It was me beneath him, being pressed down, being kissed. Me he murmured into. Me he touched.
I stepped off his stoop without knocking and moved closer to the monorail. Maybe I’d follow it all the way around the residential area and back home. Maybe I’d catch the next train and ride it around the track once before calling it a night. Maybe—
“Aine?”