“Don't say that. Don't even joke about it! The idea of ten weeks with a single, locked-down girlfriend—even the fake kind—gives me all over body hives. Sue me for making a face about that. I don't think you've thought any of this through. It would involve all of our friends, parents—even if we don't use my real name—text messaging, emails—and a lot of time. Time is something I don't have to burn. Plus, it would kill the variety of…of…yeah…girl fun in my summer,” I imply, wondering if she'll call my bluff. The only real summer varieties I score are the extra odd jobs I pick up at the rink. She turns bright red and I have to hide my smile. “Disgusting,” she snorts and reverts back to rubbing her temples.”

“Yeah…uh, about Facebook…all that social networking. I don't have it. My parents check my sister's emails, Facebook, and texts like stalkers. In order to get our cell phones, Kika and I had to agree to the Jordan Household No Privacy Act. I do have a school email account. But Facebook and Twitter…if you're me…there's no point. You'd be my only ‘friend’ besides my family.”

“If you don't want my services, then it's only fair you cut me loose so I can make another girl or two happy this summer. Or three.” He shifts my papers into a neater pile. “What will they do once I take you off the market?” I ask. “I can only imagine the poor girls wandering around like a lost herd of sheep all summer, wondering where you went.” I risk another glance at the staring girls and shudder. “Do they even blink? Baa. Baa. Baa.”

“We need to meet and flesh out the details of our... you know... whatever. I don't know what to call it. Our contract.""I was thinking the same thing. But can we call it our epic summer romance? Contract sounds so stuffy." He smiles again.”

“I pass off a few more résumés and jet away from her and that cinnamon smell, reserving the last paper in my hand so I can finish reading it. “Whoa—hello. What's this?” I mumble, staring at the paper. “Jess Jordan's How to be Normal Checklist, by Kika Jordan? Who's Kika?” I laugh. The way her face has turned whiter than the ice at the sports complex, I think this paper is no joke. “Kika's my little sister. Hand that over!” Do the right thing. Like she said, this is private information. None of my business. Only, it could possibly be my business. Indirectly. Not her fault…not mine… Jess's eyes have turned wild, exposed. “She made the list for me—as a joke. It's revenge. Last week I made her one on personal hygiene called: How NOT to Repel All Mankind.”

“As awkward as this moment is, I'm intrigued with the possibilities of what this could mean. Gray Porter holding up my bangs while I memorize the depth of his chin divot ranks at the top of my things-that-have-overly-surprised me list! I don't really have such a list. But when I get home, I'm making one.”

“Without another word, I turn my back and start for my Jeep, wondering if he can hear how loudly he's made my heart pound. “Okay then, see you after school, Jess. It's a date. We'll have some fun! Good luck on your afternoon final!” He sounds like a stupid megaphone. When I don't answer and hunch my shoulders, his low laugh adds a trail of goose bumps coursing down my neck.”