“You know how you’re at a party and you pick up the wrong beer, and you know after one sip that it’s not yours? But then, when you find the right one, you know it right away? Why? What is it? The temperature, or the taste of your own spit that you somehow recognize? Or the weight and moistness of the can? Or maybe everything, all together. But it’s all so subtle and complex you can’t explain it. If someone asked, How do you know that’s your beer? well, you wouldn’t know what to say. You just know.”

“Do you remember that scene in Airplane! where the guy with the flags is waving a jet into its gate, then someone asks him where the bathrooms are, so he begins gesturing in the other direction?""So the jet crashes into the airport. Yes.""That's how it is, with him. I think I'm getting these signals, you know, and it turns out he's just looking for the toilet.”

“Listen,” he said, raising himself up on one elbow. “You don’t just decide one day you’re going to run a marathon, right? You have to do some training first.”“Aren’t you being glib about this?”His hands slid around her, inside her sweater, touching her naked back.Everything in her wanted to melt. Oh, just let it go, she told herself. “Am I the marathon?”He smiled and nodded. “The New York Marathon.”“The Boston is harder," she muttered.“Okay, you’re the Boston, then.”“And what was she? Just a little warm-up?”“She was like a 5K,” he said, so near her ear that she got goose bumps. “Well…maybe a 10K.”

“What does time have to do with anything? When two people have that kind of connection and you both can relate and help each other, like I know you both do now… who the hell cares about how long you’ve been dating? I say, when you know, you know.”

“It’s not just about private time. It’s the atmosphere, the music and the lighting. It’s about doing something in public you know you shouldn’t and doing it anyway for the thrill of it.”

“I don’t know what happened in your past, what he did to you, how he hurt you, but I’m not that guy. The only thing I want from you is you. I would never use you, Clair. I can’t make you trust me, but if you let me, I’ll prove to you that you can. What good is life without taking a chance?”

“This—” He shook his head. “You and me, you know it’s not a good idea.”“If you think so, maybe you should stay away.”“You don’t want me to,” he said, moving his hand to mine. Every time he touched me, my stomach got all jittery.“What do you want?” I asked.“You,” he said, his expression unreadable and his voice heavy and full of . . . full of what? Sadness? Regret? “To understandyou. To know that you’re safe. To not have to avoid the only person I can be myself around.”