He had stripped to his boxers. “Hell if I know. Mine’s a clip-on.”

I retreated to the outer room. Jonas called out over the water, “Has Liz been here?”

“Nobody’s been here.”

“She was supposed to meet us.”

My anxiety had now focused entirely on the matter of my tie. I returned to the mirror and withdrew it from my pocket. The gist, I’d heard, was to tie it like a pair of shoes. How much harder could it be? I’d been tying my own shoes since I was two.

The answer was: a lot harder. Nothing I did made the ends come out even close to the same length. It was as if the silk were possessed.

“Now, don’t you look spiffy.”

Liz had come in through the open door. Or, rather, a woman who resembled Liz; in her place stood a creature of pure understated glamour. She was wearing a slender black cocktail dress scooped low at the neck and high-heeled shoes of shiny red leather; she had added something to her hair, making it full and rich, and exchanged her glasses for contacts. A long string of pearls, no doubt real, dangled deep into her décolletage.

“Wow,” I said.

“And that,” she said, tossing her clutch on the sofa, “is the very syllable that every woman longs to hear.” A cloud of complex scent had followed her into the room. “Having some troubles with your neckwear, I see?”

I held out the villainous article. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Let’s have a look.” She stepped toward me and took it from my hand. “Ah,” she said, examining it, “here’s the problem.”

“What?”

“It’s a bow tie!” She laughed. “As it so happens, you’ve come to the right person. I do this for my father all the time. Hold still.”

She draped the tie around my neck and positioned it under the collar. In her heels, she was nearly as tall as I was; our faces were inches apart. With her eyes intently focused on the base of my throat, she engaged in her mysterious business. I had never been so close to a woman I was not about to kiss. My gaze instinctively went to her lips, which looked soft and warm, then downward, following the path of the pearls. The effect was like a low-voltage current passing through each cell of my body.

“Eyes up here, buster.”

I knew I was blushing. I looked away. “Sorry.”

“You’re a man, what can you do? You’re like pull toys. It must be awful.” A final adjustment; then she stepped back. That heat in her cheeks: was she blushing, too? “There you go. Have a look.”

She retrieved a compact from her clutch and gave it to me. It was made of a material that was smooth to the touch, like polished bone; it felt warm in my hand, as if it were radiating a pure, womanly energy. I opened it, revealing its bay of flesh-toned powder and small round mirror, in which my face looked back at me, floating above the flawlessly knotted pink bow tie.

“Perfect,” I said.

The shower shut off with a groan, widening my awareness. I had forgotten all about my roommate.

“Jonas,” Liz called, “we’re late!”

He bounded into the room, clutching a towel around his waist. I had the feeling of being caught doing something I shouldn’t have.

“So, are you two going to stand around and watch me dress? Unless—” Looking at Liz, he gave his towel a suggestive jostle, like an exotic dancer teasing an audience. “Ça te donne du plaisir, mademoiselle?”

“Just hurry it up. We’re late.”

“But I asked in French!”

“You’ll want to work on your accent. We’ll meet you outside, thank you very much.” She gripped me by the arm, steering me toward the door. “Come on, Tim.”

We took the stairs to the courtyard. A college campus on a Saturday night follows principles of its own: it awakens just as the rest of the world is readying for slumber. Music came from everywhere, pouring out of the windows; laughing figures moved through the darkness; voices lit the night from all directions. As we stepped through the breezeway, a girl hurried past, holding the hem of her dress with one hand, a bottle of champagne in the other.

“You’ll do fine,” Liz assured me.

We were standing just beyond the gate. “Do I look worried?” Though, of course, I was.

“All you have to do is act like you belong. That’s really the whole point. Of most things, actually.”

Away from Jonas, she had become somebody slightly different: more philosophical, even a little world-weary. I sensed that this was closer to the truth of her.

“I forgot to mention,” Liz said, “I’ve got somebody I’d like you to meet. She’ll be at the party.”

I wasn’t sure what I thought of this.

“We’re cousins,” she went on. “Well, second cousins. She goes to B.U.”

The offer was disorienting. I had to remind myself that what had transpired upstairs had been an innocent flirtation, nothing more—that she was somebody else’s girlfriend.

“Okay.”

“Try not to sound too excited.”

“What makes you think we’d hit it off?”

The remark came off too blunt, even a little resentful. But if she took offense, she didn’t show it. “Just don’t let her drink too much.”

“Is that a problem?”

She shrugged. “Steph can be a bit of a party girl, if you know what I mean. That’s her name, Stephanie.”