“Anna?" Someone knocks on my door, and it startles me out of my seat.No.Not someone. St. Clair.I'm wearing an old Mayfield Dairy T-shirt, complete with yellow-and-brown cow logo,and hot pink flannel pajama bottoms covered in giant strawberries. I am not even wearing a bra."Anna,I know you're in there. I can see your light.""Hold on a sec!" I blurt. "I'll be right there." I grab my black hoodie and zip it up over the cow's face before wrenching open the door. "Hisorryaboutthat. Come in."I open the door wide but he stands there for a moment, just staring at me. I can't read the expression on his face. Then he breaks into a mischievous smile and brushes past me."Nice strawberries.""Shut up.""No,I mean it. Cute."And even though he doesn't mean it like I-want-to-leave-my-girlfriend-and-start-dating-you cute,something flickers inside of me. The "force of strength and destruction" Tita de la Garza knew so well.St. Clair stands in the center of my room.He scratches his head, and his T-shirt lifts up on one side, exposing a slice of bare stomach.Foomp! My inner fire ignites."It's really...er...clean," he says.Fizz. Flames extinguished.”

“And even though he doesn't mean it like I-want-to-leave-my-girlfriend-and-start-dating-you cute, something flickers inside of me. The "force of strength and destruction" Tita de la Garza knew so well.”

“Do I need to check up on you guys later? You know the rules.No sleeping in opposite-sex rooms."My face flames,and St. Clair's cheeks grow blotchy. It's true.It's a rule. One that my brain-my rule-loving, rule-abiding brain-conveniently blocked last night. It's also one notoriously ignored by the staff."No,Nate," we say.He shakes his shaved head and goes back in his apartment. But the door opens quickly again,and a handful of something is thrown at us before it's slammed back shut.Condoms.Oh my God, how humiliating.St. Clair's entire face is now bright red as he picks the tiny silver squares off the floor and stuffs them into his coat pockets. We don't speak,don't even look at each other,as we climb the stairs to my floor. My pulse quickens with each step.Will he follow me to my room,or has Nate ruined any chance of that?We reach the landing,and St. Clair scratches his head. "Er...""So...""I'm going to get dressed for bed. Is that all right?" His voice is serious,and he watches my reaction carefully."Yeah.Me too.I'm going to...get ready for bed,too.""See you in a minute?"I swell with relief. "Up there or down here?""Trust me,you don't want to sleep in my bed." He laughs,and I have to turn my face away,because I do,holy crap do I ever. But I know what he means.It's true my bed is cleaner. I hurry to my room and throw on the strawberry pajamas and an Atlanta Film Festival shirt. It's not like I plan on seducing him.Like I'd even know how. St. Clair knocks a few minutes later, and he's wearing his white bottoms with the blue stripes again and a black T-shirt with a logo I recognize as the French band he was listening to earlier. I'm having trouble breathing."Room service," he says.My mind goes...blank. "Ha ha," I say weakly.He smiles and turns off the light. We climb into bed,and it's absolutely positively completely awkward. As usual. I roll over to my edge of the bed. Both of us are stiff and straight, careful not to touch the other person. I must be a masochist to keep putting myself in these situations. I need help. I need to see a shrink or be locked in a padded cell or straitjacketed or something.After what feels like an eternity,St. Clair exhales loudly and shifts. His leg bumps into mine, and I flinch. "Sorry," he says."It's okay.""...""...""Anna?""Yeah?""Thanks for letting me sleep here again. Last night..."The pressure inside my chest is torturous. What? What what what?"I haven't slept that well in ages."The room is silent.After a moment, I roll back over. I slowly, slowly stretch out my leg until my foot brushes his ankle. His intake of breath is sharp. And then I smile,because I know he can't see my expression through the darkness.”

“Anna? Anna,are you there? I've been waiting in the lobby for fifteen minutes." A scrambling noise,and St. Clair curses from the floorboards. "And I see your light's off.Brilliant. Could've mentioned you'd decided to go on without me."I explode out of bed. I overslept! I can't believe I overslept! How could this happen?St. Clair's boots clomp away,and his suitcase drags heavily behind him. I throw open my door. Even though they're dimmed this time of night,the crystal sconces in the hall make me blink and shade my eyes.St. Clair twists into focus.He's stunned. "Anna?""Help," I gasp. "Help me."He drops his suitcase and runs to me. "Are you all right? What happened?"I pull him in and flick on my light. The room is illuminated in its disheveled entirety. My luggage with its zippers open and clothes piled on top like acrobats. Toiletries scattered around my sink. Bedsheets twined into ropes. And me. Belatedly, I remember that not only is my hair crazy and my face smeared with zit cream,but I'm also wearing matching flannel Batman pajamas."No way." He's gleeful. "You slept in? I woke you up?"I fall to the floor and frantically squish clothes into my suitcase."You haven't packed yet?""I was gonna finish this morning! WOULD YOU FREAKING HELP ALREADY?" I tug on a zipper.It catches a yellow Bat symbol, and I scream in frustration.We're going to miss our flight. We're going to iss it,and it's my fault. And who knows when the next plane will leave, and we'll be stuck here all day, and I'll never make it in time for Bridge and Toph's show. And St. Clair's mom will cry when she has to go to the hospital without him for her first round of internal radiation, because he'll be stuck iin an airport on the other side of the world,and its ALL. MY FAULT."Okay,okay." He takes the zipper and wiggles it from my pajama bottoms. I make a strange sound between a moan and a squeal. The suitcase finally lets go, and St. Clair rests his arms on my shoulders to steady them. "Get dressed. Wipe your face off.I'll takecare of the rest."Yes,one thing at a time.I can do this. I can do this.ARRRGH!He packs my clothes. Don't think about him touching your underwear. Do NOT think about him touching your underwear. I grab my travel outfit-thankfully laid out the night before-and freeze. "Um."St. Clair looks up and sees me holding my jeans. He sputters. "I'll, I'll step out-""Turn around.Just turn around, there's not time!"He quickly turns,and his shoulders hunch low over my suitcase to prove by posture how hard he is Not Looking.”

“I think we're the only ones in the building," he says."Then no one will mind when I do this!" I jump onto the desk and parade back and forth. St. Clair belts out a song, and I shimmy to the sound of his voice. When he finishes,I bow with a grand flourish."Quick!" he says."What?" I hop off the desk. Is Nate here? Did he see?But St. Clair runs to the stairwell. He throws open the door and screams. The ehco makes us both jump, and then together we scream again at the top of our lungs. It's exhilarating. St. Clair chases me to the elevator,and we ride it to the rooftop. He hangs back but laughs as I spit off the side, trying to hit a lingerie advertisement. The wind is fierce,and my aim is off,so I race back down two flights of stairs. Our staircase is wide and steady, so he's only a few feet behind me. We reach his floor."Well," he says. Our conversation halts for the first time in hours.I look past him. "Um.Good night.""See you tomorrow? Late breakfast at the creperie?""That'd be nice.""Unless-" he cuts himself off.Unless what? He's hesitant, changed his mind. The moment passes. I give him one more questioning look, but he turns away."Okay." It's hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "See you in the morning." I take the steps down and glance back.He's staring at me. I lift my hand and wave. He's oddly statuesque. I push through the door to my floor,shaking my head. I don't understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It's like we're incapable of normal human interaction. Forget about it,Anna.The stairwell door bursts open.My heart stops.St. Clair looks nervous. "It's been a good day. This was the first good day I've had in ages." He walks slowly toward me. "I don't want it to end. I don't want to be alone right now.""Uh." I can't breathe.He stops before me,scanning my face. "Would it be okay if I stayed with you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable-""No! I mean..." My head swims. I can hardly think straight. "Yes. Yes, of course,it's okay."St. Clair is still for a moment. And then he nods.I pull off my necklace and insert my key into the lock. He waits behind me. My hand shakes as I open the door.”

“Anna?""Yeah?"He pauses. "Never mind.""What?""Nothing."But his tone is definitely not nothing. I turn to him, and his eyes are closed. His skin is pale and tired. "What?" I ask again,sitting up. St. Clair opens his eyes, noticing I've moved. He struggles,trying to sit up, too, and I help him. When I pull away, he clutches my hand to stop me."I like you," he says.My body is rigid."And I don't mean as a friend."It feels like I'm swallowing my tongue. "Uh. Um. What about-?" I pull my hand away from his. The weight of her name hangs heavy and unspoken."It's not right.It hasn't been right, not since I met you." His eyes close again,and his body sways.He's drunk. He's just drunk.Calm down,Anna. He's drunk, and he's going through a crisis. There is NO WAY he knows what he's talking about right now. So what do I do? Oh my God, what am I supposed to do?"Do you like me?" St. Clair asks. And he looks at me with those big brown eyes-which,okay,are a bit red from the drinking and maybe from some crying-and my heart breaks.Yes,St. Clair.I like you.But I can't say it out loud, because he's my friend. And friends don't let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day.Then again...it's St. Clair. Beautiful, perfect,wonderful-And great.That's just great.He threw up on me.”

“I smile at my friends, but Mer and Rashmi and Josh are distracted, arguing about something that happened over dinner. St. Clair sees me and smiles back. "Good?"I nod.He looks pleased and ducks into the row after me. I always sit four rows up from the center, and we have perfectseats tonight.The chairs are classic red. The movie begins,and the title screen flashes up. "Ugh,we have to sit through the credits?" Rashmi asks. They roll first,like in all old films.I read them happily. I love credits. I love everything about movies.The theater is dark except for the flicker of blacks and whites and grays on-screen. Clark Gable pretends to sleep and places his hand in the center of an empty bus seat. After a moment of irritation,Claudette Colbert gingerly plucks it aside and sits down. Gable smiles to himself,and St. Clair laughs.It's odd,but I keep finding myself distracted. By the white of his teeth through the darkness.By a wavy bit of his hair that sticks straight out to the side. By the soft aroma of his laundry detergent. He nudges me to silently offer the armrest,but I decline and he takes it.His arm is close to mine,slightly elevated. I glance at his hands.Mine are tiny compared to his large,knuckly boy hands.And,suddenly,I want to touch him.Not a push,or a shove,or even a friendly hug. I want to feel the creases in his skin,connect his freckles with invisible lines,brush my fingers across the inside of his wrist. He shifts. I have the strangest feeling that he's as aware of me as I am of him. I can't concentrate. The characters on the screen are squabbling, but for the life of me, I don't know what about. How long have I not been paying attention?St. Clair coughs and shifts again. His leg brushes against mine.It stays there. I'm paralyzed. I should move it; it feels too unnatural.How can he not notice his leg is touching my leg? From the corner of my eye,I see the profile of his chin and nose,and-oh,dear God-the curve of his lips.There.He glanced at me. I know he did.I bore my eyes into the screen, trying my best to prove that I am Really Interested in this movie.St. Clair stiffens but doesn't move his leg.Is he holding his breath? I think he is.I'm holding mine. I exhale and cringe-it's so loud and unnatural.Again.Another glance. This time I turn, automatically,just as he's turning away. It's a dance,and now there's a feeling in the air like one of us should say something.Focus,Anna. Focus. "Do you like it?" I whisper.He pauses. "The film?"I'm thankful the shadows hide my blush."I like it very much," he says.I risk a glance,and St. Clair stares back. Deeply.He has not looked at me like this before.I turn away first, then feel him turn a few beats later.I know he is smiling,and my heart races.”