“Hannah." He looks at me, the same way he looked at me last night in the diner, with longing and sadness, and it's like everything I'm feeling I can see in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad it hurts, but I know I can't. So instead, I tear my gaze from his and look down at the ground.”

“So what now?" I ask when I finally pull away. I bury my head in his shoulder, not sure I want to know the answer.But when I look at him, his face is surprised, like it should be obvious. "Now," he says. "We figure it out together.”

“So you were checking up on me?" I aks"No," Noah says. He puts a faux-shocked look on his face, then turns back to his magazine, pretending to be engrossed. I take the magazine our of his hand and toss it back onto the table."That's good," I say, "That you weren't checking up on me. Because I'm totally fine.""I know." He shrugs."And I don't need to be checked up on.""Definitely not.""I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.""Perfectly.""So we agree.""Yup.""So then where are you clothes?""What?""Your clothes," I say. "Where are your clothes? You came to the Laundromat so you must have some clothes." I fold my arms across my chest and wait,"Oh, my clothes," he says, giving me an easy grin. "I didn't come here to do laundry.""Oh, really?" I say. "The what were you here to do?""I was here," he says, rolling his eyes like it should be obvious, "so I could go across the street to Cooley's and check my schedule for the week.""And you just happened to see me coming into the Laundromat?""Exactly,”

“You're still riding home with me right?" He asks Courtney watching me at the corner of his eye. What's with this guy? he looks like he's about one second from taking a baseballbat to my knees. Or wanting to. I wonder if this is how serial killers start out. Wasn't Unabomber really goos at math?”

“But when I look at him, his face is surprised, like it should be obvious. "Now," he says, "we figure it out together.”

“You don;t believe me?" He sound wounded, like the thought of me not believing him makes him incredibly sad."No.""Then come with me," he says. He unfolds his long legs and stands up. "To Cooley's. You'll see they just posted the schedule. If I'm lying, I'll buy you a chocolate shake.""And If you're not?""Then I'll still buy you a chocolate shake." He grins at me.”

“It's definitely broken," my mom says [...]"Maybe it's unplugged or something," [...]"Honey, it's broken," my mom says. She sounds like she's trying to break it to me gently. I can't really blame her. The other day she told me there was no more vanilla ice cream, and I burst into tears right in the middle of the kitchen. She obviously knows I'm fragile.”