“I realized my hands were in my pockets. He couldn't hold one even if he wanted to. Not unless he actively dug it out, which would be weird. He probably thought I was sending him a specific message not to hold my hand.I took my hands out of my pockets.The problem is I like having my hands in my pockets. It's my natural position. They felt unwieldy hanging by my sides, as if I was walking like a Neanderthal. Why was I so bad at this?”

“It's our song," he murmured into my ear.”

“See?" I crowed. "I know what I'm doing. Two weeks, tops, and you'll be begging to dip your fries in my shake.""You think?" It took me about a second before I realized I'd done it again. My mouth seriously needed a chaperone.”

“One of the cashiers had taken to calling out, "Hey, Clark!" as I came in and marking my exit with "It's a bird, it's a plane, it's SuperGoth!" This was not only tiresome but inaccurate. There's a huge difference between goth and emo, but I never had the time or energy to give him a tutorial.”

“Eric was holding my hands, and I was digging my nails into him like we were doing something else. He won't mind, I though, as I realized I'd drawn blood. And sure enough, he didn't. "Let go," he advised me, and I loosened my grip on his hands. "No, not of me," he said smiling. "You can hold on to me as long as you want.”

“One second he was kissing me as if I was as essential to him as oxygen, and the next it was over. He stepped away, looking haunted."Did I do something wrong?"I touched my mouth, missing the heat of him."No." He shook his head and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. I didn't want his hands in his pockets. I wanted them on me."Why did you--?""Not because I wanted to stop kissing you."He looked at my lips. My pulse sped up, but my blood felt like lava moving through my veins."Timing. My timing sucks."Circumstances. Not because of me. I couldn't keep myself from grinning. "Why would you like to try this again then, another time?""I'd very much like to try this again, another time."He grinned, but it carried a touch of sadness. "I'll give you a second to...fix your hair.""My hair?""I'll give you a second to fix my hair. I mean, I'll give you a second while I go fix my hair." He let out a sigh. "I mean, I'll see you downstairs." He turned to walk out of the room, but unfortunately, he forgot to open the door first. I managed to hold in my laughter until he got it right.”

“Archer pressed a preset button on my car radio. An old Britney Spears song blared, and I sung along to every word, bopping in my seat. Archer just looked at me."Oh, come on!" I said. "Who doesn't sing along to Britney?”