“A few minutes after discovering we had a goal but no plan, Brent was laughing heartily at a pathetic joke I had made. It reminded me of the firstday on campus when I had thought his laughter sounded like a melody. It did now, even more so. It was music, beautiful, in a manly way, like asensual, slow jazz. I loved jazz.“Jazz, huh?” Brent asked, his voice suddenly husky.“Uh . . . what?”“My laugh reminds you of jazz? Is there anything about me you don’t find attractive?” He rubbed his hand over his lips trying to cover his smirk.“So tell me, how much do you love jazz?”I’m sure my face was pinker than the inside of a watermelon. “I didn’t say any of that.”“You didn’t have to say it, Yara, I could hear it.” Brent tapped the side of his head. “I can hear your thoughts.”“You’re not serious.”“Oh, but I am,” he said, completely straight-faced.”

“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.”

“Sorry,” I say to my father. “Hope we didn’t wake you. After last night, I wanted to check on Harlin’s arm.”He tilts his head like he is absolutely sure I’m lying. “And how is his arm, Elise?” he asks.“Uh . . . better?”My father stands motionless for a second, and then he shakes his head and walks into the kitchen. I hear the clink of cups, and then the running of water for the coffeepot.“That was a nice save,” Harlin says, sounding amused. “So detailed. Like a nurse.”“Shut up, Harlin,” I say, trying not to smile. “I didn’t hear you offer anything better.”“You sure you didn’t want to tell him we were playing doctor? That might have sounded more believable.”I turn quickly and swat at him. He laughs, dodging my swing, and catches my hand. “I would tackle you right here,” he says, leaning close. “Pin you and kiss you. But with the luck we have in your house, someone will walk in. And then what will you tell them?” he whispers. “That you were giving me CPR?”“Stop!” I slap his shoulder again.”

“I can't believe you're still mad at me," Ed says."You grabbed my arse.""You broke my nose.""You broke his nose?" Jazz asks. "You grabbed her arse?""It was two years ago-""Two years, four months, and eight days," I tell him."-and I was fifteen, and I slipped and she broke my nose.""Wait a minute. How do you slip onto someone's arse?"Jazz asks."I meant slipped up. I slipped up and she broke my nose.""You're lucky that's all I broke," I say."You're lucky I didn't call the police."Leo, Dylan, and Daisy slid into the booth. "Did you guys know that Lucy broke Ed's nose? Jazz asks.Ed closes his eyes silently and bangs his head on the wall.”

“I don’t know a thing about jazz.” “That’s okay.” He pulled me toward the door and opened it. “You know music. Jazz will explain itself.”

“After Kellan begged me for a final kiss, Griffin murmured, “Your wedding day is Thanksgiving. That’s convenient.” He pointed at Kellan. “You probably won’t forget your anniversary.” He looked over at Anna. “We shoulda done that. I already forgot ours.”Anna smirked at Griffin while Kellan’s lip twitched. “Uh, it won’t always be on Thanksgiving, Griff.”He looked horribly confused. “Huh? Yeah, it will.”“Kellan bit his lip. I could tell he was trying really hard not to laugh, since laughing hurt. “Thanksgiving isn’t on the same day every year. It moves around.”Griffin glared at Kellan. “Don’t even try fucking with me, Kell.” He tapped his finger to his head. “I’m on to you.”I heard Matt and Evan snigger with Justin and Denny. My dad stared at the ceiling as he shook his head. I couldn’t contain my giggle; poor Kellan had to take long, slow exhales so he didn’t laugh with everyone else. “Griff, I’m not . . .”