“What is it about those two words - I'm sorry - that makes otherwise articulate guys into babbling idiots?”

“Look.I'm...uh...When you told me you'd looked at my stuff.I didn't...I shouldn't have..."What is it about those two words-I'm sorry-that makes otherwise articulate guys into babbling idiots? I mean, I love you, I get. That's a tough one, putting yourself so completely, nakedly out there. I haven't ever said that to a guy. A guy other than Frankie or my dad, anyway. But I'm sorry? I say it twenty times a day.To Nonna, when I just can't face a three-course breakfast at seven in the morning, to the half-dozen people I bump into on my frantic rush up those eight blocks to school. To Sadie, for having to copy her algebra homework for,like,the thousandth time, because I didn't get to mine.I'm still waiting for Leo to apologize for totalling my bike three years ago. I forgave him eventually. Riding a bike in the middle of the city is a little like playing RUssian roulette with a bus. Still, it would have been nice t have gotten an I'm sorry instead of a litany of excuses. I figure I'll be waiting forever.”

“The Top Ten Things Every Girl Should Have the First Time5. A guy who realizes it's a big deal for you, this time.6. A guy who understands that it's a big deal every time.7. A guy who tries to make it special. Every time.”

“When Sebastian, cearly delighted to be treated like one of the guys, didn't move, Alex bared his teeth. "Depeche-toi!"Sebastian depeched. Alex turned back, all Cheshire cat smile."No," I said."No what?""No,you are not going to teach me all the cool words so I can go to Chamonix and be conversational.""Good." He leaned in so I could see the faint dusting of freckles on his nose and smell spearmint gum. "Chamonix is so 1990s. Everyone who is anyone goes to Courchevel these days."I turned on my heel and started to walk off."Jeez. Ella." He loped after me. "What if your problem? Conversational, my ass. Talking to you is like dancing around a fire in paper shoes."I stopped. "What is that supposed to mean?""It's an expression my Ukranian babushka likes. I'll explain it at our first turtoring session."I scowled at his shirt. This one had what looked like a guy riding a dolphin instead of the ubiquitos alligator or polo player. "There isn't going to be a tutoring session.""Winslow seems to think otherwise.""Wouldn't be the first thing she's wrong about," I muttered.He gave an impressive sigh. The dolphin lurched, but the little guy on it held tight. "You don't want to fail French, do you? That would be a serious admission of weakness from an Italian girl."I almost smiled. Instead, I announced. "Fuhgeddaboudit. I'll buy a 'Teach Your Poodle French in Ten Easy Lessons' online. Problem solved, and Winslow will never be the wiser.""Yeah. Good luck with that. So how's this Friday? I don't have practice." When I shook my head, he demanded, " What is it? I'm a good tutor. Ask Sebastian. I was just teaching him how to tell the obnoxious French dudes on the slopes that they suck.”

“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.”

“An hour later, proven absolutely right, I slid the last drawer closed, sat on the dusty floor, and had a good, sorry=for-myself "what now?" moment.”

“Frankie turned back and forth in front of the three-way mirror. "I have absolutely no ass whatsoever."A few feet away,a woman whose designer velour fit her like a sausage casing, gave an amused snort. "Honey," she said over a display of two-hundred-dollar T-shirts. "I have been waiting forty years to say those words."Frankie padded toward her in his socks and Alexander McQuenn pants.He thrust his hands into the pockets, pulling the fabric tighter, and presented her with his outthrust bottom. "Honestly. This is what you want?"She lasted about five seconds before grinning-and sighing at the same time. "No,I guess not."He turned around, leaned in, and informed her conspiratorially, "There is not a T-shirt on earth worth that much."She looked down at the plain blue cotton in her hands. "You are so right." She put it back. "And with that face, sweetie, you could have the ass of a rhino and no one would notice.I'm just saying.""What does she know?" he muttered when she'd gone. "What good has this face done me?"Apparently, Connor hadn't been quite as available as he'd let on. Apparently, along with dancing, juggling was one of his talents."You couldn't have known," Sadie said gently. "Oh,yes,I could.I mean, he's a guy,isn't he?"There's not much you can say to a boy when he makes a statement like that. So we just scooted in until we were up against Frankie's thin shoulders, bookending him.”