“You are a walking litany of imaginary flaws”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me.""Yeah?""Yeah." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. For a second, he looked exactly like Daniel: cynical, bored, and liable to bite. "Well,that's funny," he drawled. "I think you're lying through your teeth."My stomach clenched. "Why?""Because," he said calmly, "in all the time I've known you,you have never once said those words.""What words?""'There is nothing wrong with me.'""Oh,don't-""Never. You are a walking litany of imaginary flaws.So." Frankie unfolded himself and rested his elbows on the table. It wobbled. He didn't. He studied me over his tented fingers. "Truth or Dare?""It's Sadie's turn to ask.""She passed," he snapped."Hey," I protested."Hey." Sadie actually waved a hand between us. "Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow.""We could," Frankie replied with suspicious agreeability. "Except I want to do it now. So,here's the question, Marino. What-""Dare.""Sorry?" he said."Dare. I'll take a dare/""Really?" he demanded."As long as it takes ten minutes or less. I have to go." All I wanted, really, was to leave.Frankie didn't say anything-or move-for the longest time. He just stared at me. Then, finally, he blinked, lowered his hands, and shrugged. "Sing.""Oh,come on-""Sing," he repeated. "You know how. Or concede."That, I thought, would be so easy. It would also break something precious. In all out time together, none of us had ever conceded a dare. "Sadie. Sing with me?"She nodded,but Frankie shook a finger at her. "You will not. Marino, you're on your own here."I pretty much stomped way may to the stage. Stavros's son Nic was manning the karaoke machine. His brows shot up when he saw me. "A first.”

“I was going to walk right into the hallowed halls in my battered Chucks and eans, to sit among first-edition Trollopes-assuming they'd restored them. Walk right up to whatever heavily armed security troll was at the door and demand admittance.They wouldn't let me over the threshold.”

“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.”

“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.”

“I was still convinced that I was going to wake up, or walk out of a bathroom, or look up from my homework to discover I'd imagined the whole thing.”

“We walked to the edge of the creaky deck. He stood with his chest pressed against my back, arms tight around me. It was cold enough to make my nose hurt, and my feet were frozen, but I wanted to stand right where I was for a long time, breathing in the smell of the ocean. "There's the lighthouse." He pointed. I could just see a tall shadow. Then the light on top blinked. "In the daytime, you can see down to the water.""It's amazing.""We'll come back.Whenever you want."I liked the sound of that.”