“I rested my head on my arms and sighed dramatically. "What's up?" she asked"Why are boys so annoying?" she chuckled."You know what my mother used to say?" I shook my head still in position "Boys are stupid and girls are trouble" truer words were never spoken.”

“Boys are stupid and girls are trouble.”Truer words were never spoken.”

“My brother cleared his throat. "I wish she knew that I think she is the most hilarious person on Earth. And that whenever she's not home, I feel like I'm missing my partner in crime."My throat tightened. Do not cry. Do not cry."I wish she knew that she's really Mom's favorite--" I shook my head here."--the princess she always wanted. That Mom used to dress her up like a little doll and parade her around like Mara was her greatest achievement. I wish Mara knew that I never minded, because she's my favorite too.”

“Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly. His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption." Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?""No.""Not many girls? Or not many boys?""Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would."How many?" "Why—" "I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?" My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One." At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear."He was doing it wrong.”

“So." Noah said carefully. I was sitting up cross-legged and tangled in my sheets."So." I said back"Would you like to hear about Curious George's new adventures?"I shook my head."Are you sure?" Noah asked. "He's been such a naughty monkey.""Pass.”

“My chest cracked open at his words. I stared into Noah's perfect face and tried to see what he saw. I tried to see us - not individually, not the arrogant, beautiful, reckless lost boy and the angry, broken girl - but what we were, who we were, together. I tried to remember holding his hand at my kitchen table and feeling for the first time since I'd left Rhode Island that I wasn't alone in this. That I belonged.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, Jamal Feldstein-Roth.”I blinked. “Wait, Jamal?”“Suck it,” he said with a grin. “My parents are liberal Jews from Long Island, okay? They wanted me to have a connection to my heritage.” Jamie made air quotes with his fingers. “I’m not judging—my middle name is Amitra. I’m just surprised.”“Amitra,” Noah amused. “Mystery solved.”“What is that?” Jamie asked me.“Sanskrit? Hindi?” I shrugged.“Randomly?”I shook my head. “My mom’s Indian.”“What does that mean?” Jamie asked me.“What does Jamal mean?” I asked him.“Point taken.”