“I should probably leave now," I said, starting to strip off the gloves. I wasn't about to walk away with my droopy scarecrow hands.”

“It's pierogis. From Svichkar's. Probably cold. It seemed...Oh,crap. It was a really stupid thing to bring, wasn't it? My mother just has this thing about never arriving empty-handed."I tugged the bag out of his hands. "It's perfect. Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Bainbridge.""Je t'en prie, Mademoiselle Marino."Okay, so it's just the semiformal way to say "You're welcome" in French, but anyone who says Italian is the language of romance is probably Italian.”

“Just out of curiosity, do they know I'm here?""Yep." My Mother did, anyway. Mention of a French tutor had effectively headed off any possibility of shopping."I take it they trust you not to do anything inappropriate."I couldn't tell if he was being serious. I assumed not. "Absolutely. In fact,my mother would probably pay you to do something to make them trust me a little less." I took a look at his face. He looked a little stunned. "Oh,no. I didn't mean-"Or maybe I did. But Alex was backing away from me, hands raised. "okay.""J'etais stupide."He sat down heavily on the edge of my desk, narrowly missing the biscotti. "I wouldn't say that. But your use of the imperfect is improving.""Just what I always wanted," I said sadly, "to get better at imperfection.”

“He jingled his keys in his hand as he walked. "Y'know, I've looked for you around the floors.You haven't been drawing our door."Of course, there wasn't an our anything. Unless,of course, he meant our as in "we the people of means who visit France regularly enough to be in French 5." "I figured I should give up," I said shortly."Why?"Because you looked right through me. Because I might be pitiful, but I'm not stupid. Because I promised the one boy who never disappoints me. "There was no way it was going to turn out the way I wanted it to.""Too bad.""Yeah.”

“I was halfway out the door before Daniel had even stopped. I slipped off his coat and gloves. "Thanks," I told him."Hey." Quick as a snake, he leaned across the passenger seat and thrust out his hand, stopping the door from closing. "Hey! I have something to say here.""Absolutely.Shoot.""You're welcome," he said."That's the something?""Nope.That's a something. This is the something..." He pinned me with those almost-black eyes, and I had absolutely no doubt as to why his invisible girl climbed happily into the back of the Jeep with him. "You listening?""Sure." A little hypnotized, maybe, but functioning."There is not a single ordinary thing about you,Loco Girl." He pulled the door closed with a snap and was gone.”

“I was wondering where the real party was."I jumped, sending my pencil in a sharp line across the page. Alex was standing two feet away, one booted foot on my step, hands thrust into the pockets of what looked too much like Emo pants: black and tight."Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to surprise you.""You didn't surprise me," I gasped, left hand plastered to my chest. "You scared the crap out of me. Who raised you? Wolves?"He actually grinned. "You've met my parents. What do you think?"I wasn't going to touch that one. I just shrugged. "Why aren't you inside?" he asked after a few seconds."It was too hot," I lied, closing my sketchbook as casually as I could. "Oppressive.Why aren't you?""It was too...God, I don't know. Oppressive's a good word. Some fresh air seemed like a good idea."I looked past him, relieved not to see anyone else there. "All by yourself? That's...bold."His brows wen up. For a second, I thought he was going to turn around and leave. Instead,he took his hands out of his pockets and pointed at my step. "Big words for a small person. Can I sit down?"I swallowed. "Sure."He did, ending up with his elbows resting on his thighs and his right knee not quite touching mine.The silence went on just long enough to make in uncomfortable. But I wasn't going to help him with his small talk. I'm not very good at it in the best of circumstances. Sitting almost thigh to thigh with a guy who turned me into a mental pretzel was nowhere near a good circumstance.”

“This is not exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to miss lunch," Alex said grumpily forty minutes later. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to see what I was doing.I stared him back into submission. "Wait."The art room is usually empty Thursday afternoons except for me. Ms. Evers leaves early to teach her UArts class and looks up.Of course, I am one of the few entrusted with the Secret Location of the Key.A few feet away from where I sat perched on a stool,Alex was posed on the anchient chaise we use for figure drawing. It's a relic, probably from the Palladinetti years: chipped mahogany and dusty velvet, what little remaining stuffing pokes out from a century of holes. I was probably luxurious once. Now it's like sitting on a slightly smelly board. But I'd wanted to sketch Alex as I so often saw him, reclining with his head propped on one hand,listening or talking or coaxing me to put down the glass, already,Ella,and come here.”