“I went to stand next to him. He radiated heat. It was distracting.”

“I'd given the bare minimum of info-especially after-hypocrite that he is-Frankie made such dramatic gagging motions at my description of the Mustang that a passing shopper had asked if she should call 911.So I braced myself. "Dare."Frankie's brows went up. "Well. All right,then." He scanned the floor. "I dare you to stand up next to that mannequin over there,and list the five best Unrequited Love songs of all time.”

“It hit me,then,while he stared down at me with a slight frown.I was standing almost chest to chest with Alex Bainbridge in a very small space. I backed up a step and bumped into the toilet. "I should go," I said, a little shakily. "I should go home.""Right." Always polite, he let me walk out first. "Next week....Next week, we can have our tutoring session in here. We'll discuss art. Or bathroom fixtures. You can sit up there"- he pointed to the counter- "next to the Willing."Now,out of the bathroom, and a few feet away from him, I could laugh- "Okay. Before you start to think that I am obsessive and insane, there has to be something,the sight of something, that would make you go all goofy."He didn't miss a beat. "Mademoiselle Winslow in a tutu. No..." He looked a little goofy when he said, "Spider-Man versus Doctor Octopus. July 1963.""That's a comic book, right?"He sighed. "Oh,Ella." Then, "Come on. I'll drive you home.""You don't have to-""Yeah,I do.”

“Well, good night," he said cheerfully. "Thanks for dinner.""Oh. Right." I took a half step back toward the house. "You're welcome.""Ella.""Yeah?""You've gotta be kidding."PECo hadn't some yet, so it was pretty dark where we were standing. I don't know how his hand found mine so fast, but one second I was thinking about how much I didn't want to say good night, and the next I was up against his chest, standing on my toes with my feet between his."Is this okay?" he asked, his breath chocolaty and warm against my forehead."Yeah," I answered, my own breath coming in quick little jumps. "Yeah.""Good.I have something I have to tell you."I waited."I hate that Klimt painting," he said. "I really hate it."Then he was folding me into his coat and his face was right above mine, and there was only one kiss that mattered.”

“I have these worksheets. They're great for the irregular verbs...""Not today."He shot me a look and kept shuffling papers."Okay," I said. "D'accord.Pas de papiers aujourd'hui. S'il vous plait,Alex. Je...je fais les choses la derniere fois.""Prochaine.""What?""La prochaine fois," he correct. "Next time. Derniere fois is 'last time.' I'm not even going to start on your verb usage.""Right.La derniere...sorry...prochaine fois. How do you say 'I'm begging you'?""Jes t'en supplie," he answered. Then, "You are aware that in order to speak better french, you actually have to speak French.""Oui,monsieur. But the Eiffel Tower will still be standing next week, and french fries will still be American.""Belgian," Alex sighed. "French fries started in Belgium. Look,I'm not going to force you to work. It's your choice and not my job.""Next week," I promised. "I promise.""Right." He rubbed the back of his head, pushing his hair into a funny little ducktail. "Okay,fine. How 'bout a movie?"Worked for me. "Sure.”

“But like he said, it was clean, and it was very, very cool.I told him so.He beamed. Then ordered, "Seat belt!" as he stowed our bags in the backseat. I was trying. I'd already scanned the duct-tape-patched roof in vain. The clip was where I expected it to be, next to my left hip on the bench seat.Not so the other half. "Oh,yeah.I forgot to mention it's a lap belt."He reached over me, his arm brushing against my chest, his hair just grazing my cheekbone as he pulled the belt from the crevive between the seat and the door. I caught my breath. And jumped a little when he shoved the pieces together with a loud click."Old parts," he apologized.Quivery parts,I thought as my insides settled.Kinda.”

“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.”