“So,twice a week I have my own tutor," he said shortly. "Who,trust me, makes my father look like a marshmellow. And on that note..." He picked up the sheaf of French lessons again. "We'll start with the imperfect, used to express actions that are-""Incomplete,unfulfilled, or repeated over and over." I slumped back in the weird chair. "That I know."At the end of the very imperfect sessions, Alex gave me a full ten minutes in the downstairs bathroom before showing up.All I'd figured out what that Edward's faceless girl had had wide feet, and the Bainbridge's decorator had a preference for green that might merit an intervention."I could probably give you the stupid thing"-Alex gestured to the picture when he came in- "and my folks would never notice."I winced inwardly. "I can't advocate theft," I told him, "no matter how noble the intent.”

“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.”

“So,I'm curious." Alex dragged me from my pleasant contemplation of cowardice and back in the bathroom. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his feet almost touching mine. "What is it you like so much about this guy? I looked up his stuff. It's good, but nothing out of the ordinary."What a difference a week and a shock to the ideals makes. I felt my defense of Edward sticking a little in my troat. "I like his portraits. He really saw people.It was his great strength, that intensity."Alex tilted his chin toward the picture. "Not to seem crude, but she could be any girl with a nice ass." When I glared at him, he uncrossed his arms quickly and held up his hands in surrender. "Hey,all I mean is that if I were all about really seeing someone, that's not the angle I would choose."He was probably right. No matter how I looked at it, he was probably right. "You're probably right," I told him.He bowed. The small space suddenly got a lot smaller. "Stick with me, Grasshopper. I will never lead you wrong.”

“Dad was still holding the knife. He gave Alex a very long look. Then he set down the knife, wiped his hands on his apron, and extended one. "Ronnie Marino."Alex almost leaped forward to take it. "Alex Bainbridge." He have a tiny wince,and I figured Dad had squeezed.”

“I wandered over to the motorbike and read the work Triumph on the side. 'How long has he had it?' I asked Jack. 'No. Over my dead body.' Jack's expression was hard. […] '[…] I told Dad I'd keep you safe and the Alex you know is not the Alex who drives that bike. He's not known to respect the speed limit.' Now I definitely wanted to go on it.”

“Okay,three things,and one of them has to be in French."I was back in the weird squashy chair; Alex was flopped on the bed.This time, along with the lemon soda, there were two bags of Doritos on the floor between us. He'd had one waiting. I'd brought one."I don't think this is what Mademoiselle Winslow had in mind," I told him.Truth: Despite all my good intentions to keep Frankie happy and my hopes down, I'd been looking forward to this all week, hoping Alex wouldn't forget. I'd thought up and rethought clever things I could say. Further Truth: I didn't want to sound like I'd been looking forward to it all week and thinking up what I wanted to say.Home truth: Yes, I am that pitiful.”