“Or, well, okay, the way Cora phrased it was, “You’re just like, oh my God, die, you fucking cocksucker scarf, screw this fucking knitting nonsense,” but.”

“Now, okay, important knitting life lesson right here: don’t go acrylic. Just don’t. Acrylic’s what you’re gonna find at, like, Wal-Mart, and acrylic is crap. I have it on good authority that it’s like knitting with barbed wire, that it’s squeaky, yeah, that’s right, squeaky, and that – although I can’t vouch for this one personally – apparently it’s what Satan uses to make Christmas sweaters for the ninth-circle sinners.”

“Fuck you, shiny hair, and fuck the head you grew on.”

“Arthur reaches over to take them. As he does, his thumb brushes my thumb, and it’s so cold, this sudden shock of cold. The flowers get dropped. They make a slight, swishy sound as they hit the floor. “Shit,” I say, my voice sounding really loud in my ears. And then he kisses me.It’s— I don’t know.I don’t know, I don’t know.It’s my brain turning off, it’s nothing. It’s a feeling. It’s a mouth on mine, and fuck it. Fuck my whole goddamn life, man. Just fuck it. I don’t move away like I should, but neither does he. He puts one of his hands on my face.Then the bells on the front door ring. We break apart and I open my eyes.And there’s Arthur looking back at me.”

“I feel stupidly flustered right now. “Okay, well, he’s still just like – and then there’s his friggin’ eyelashes—”“You noticed his eyelashes?” Amber asks, like it’s weird to do.It is, I realize with a horrible sinking feeling. It’s weird to notice somebody’s eyelashes.”

“What are we calling that, exactly?” I ask. Arthur ponders this for a moment. “Hmm. How about … Haphazard Medley Inspired By Radio on the Drive Over, Messrs. McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starr, The Most Hideous Preteen Holiday Monstrosity Ever Inflicted Upon The Ears Of Longsuffering Parents, The Smiths Because I Know You Like Them, And A Great Deal Of Nonsense Made Up Spur Of The Moment, All For The Beautiful Boy Who Is Sitting Next To Me, Because Somehow, Amidst The Recent Chaos, Dissatisfaction, And Mediocrity Of My Existence, Lord Knows How, I Seem To Have Done Something Very Right.” Oh, this guy. “You’re never going to fit that on any album sleeves,” I say, leaning in to rest my forehead against his.“Just the beautiful boy part, then,” he compromises, starting to smile.”

“Afterwards, we don’t head straight back to work. Instead, we stop at McDonald’s. Kristy gets a Happy Meal. Cora gets like four pies, which doesn’t exactly seem like a healthy, balanced meal to me, but she’s not exactly a healthy, balanced young lady. I get a couple of Big Macs and some fries. Arthur stares at the menu the way a time-traveling seventeenth century Puritan would watch a Lady Gaga music video.”