“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.”

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

“So what now?" [...]"Now," he says. "We figure it out together.”

“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 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,”

“But we're not sleeping," he points out."well, I would be," I say, "if you would let me off the phone." Which is obviously a lie."Fine," he says."Fine," I say."Wait!""What now?!""Court?"I don't say anything."Are you there?""Yes, I'm here," I say, "What is it?""I love you." And then he hangs up the phone.”

“One large soy latte." [...]"You mean a Venti," [...]"What?" I ask"A Venti," he says. " that's what we call larger here. You know that Hannah.""Well, whatever," I say, my bad mood deepening. "Whatever you call them, that's what I want." They should just call them larger. How stupid.”