“He glances down and notices that I'm still wearing a certain blue something, and, this time, it's HIS index finger that wraps underneath MY rubber band. I shiver wonderfully. "I'm never taking it off." Cricket brushes the delicate skin of my wrist. "It'll fall off." "I'll ask you for another one." "I'll give you another one." He smiles and touches his nose to mine.”

“He closes his eyes.Our lips brush lightly."If you ask me to kiss you , I will," he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames."Kiss me," I say.He does.”

“You aren't like your mom.""I am.But I don't want to be like that anymore,I want what I want." He turns to me again,his face anxious. "I told my father's friends that I'm studying at Berkeley next year.It worked.He's really,really angry with me,but it worked.You told me to go for his pride.You were right.""So." I'm cautious,hardly daring to believe. "You're moving to California?""I have to.""Right." I swallow hard. "Because of your mom.""Because of you. I'll only be a twenty-minute train ride from your school,and I'll make the commute to see you every night.I'd take a commute ten times that just to be with you every night."His words are too perfect.It must be a misunderstanding,surely I'm misunderstanding-"You're the most incredible girl I've ever known.You're gorgeous and smart, and you make my laugh like no one else can.And I can talk to you. And I know after all this I don't deserve you,but what I'm trying to say is that I love you,Anna.Very much."I'm holding my breath.I can't talk,but my eyes are filling with tears.He takes it the wrong way. "Oh God.And I've mucked things up again,haven't I? I didn't mean to attack you like this.I mean I did but...all right." His voice cracks. "I'll leave.Or you can go down first,and then I'll come down,and I promise I'll never bother you again-"He starts to stand,but I grab his arm. "No!"His body freezes. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I never mean to hurt you."I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. "Please stop apologizing,Etienne.""Say my name again," he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. "Etienne."He takes my hands into his.Those pefect hands,that fit mine just so. "Anna?"Our foreheads touch. "Yes?""Will you please tell me you love me? I'm dying here."And then we're laughing.And them I'm in his arms,and we're kissing,at first quickly-to make up for lost time-and then slowly,because we have all the time in the world.And his lips are soft and honey sweet,and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way I taste,too.And in between kisses,I tell him I love him.Again and again and again.”

“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.”

“I know. And I couldn't wait any longer, I have to tell you - "The panic rises, and I grip the French band tighter. "Cricket, please -"But his words pour forth in a torrent. "I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm not the guy I used to be, I've changed -""Cricket -" I look back up, feeling faint.His blue eyes are bright. Sincere. Desperate. "Go out with me tonight. Tomorrow night, every ni -" The words cut off in his throat as he sees something behind me.Cigarettes and spearmint. I want to die."This is Max. My boyfriend. Max, this is Cricket Bell.”

“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.”

“We are still holding hands.Okay,we should let go.This is the point where it would be normal to let go.Why aren't we letting go?I force my gaze to the Grand Bassin. He does the same.We're not watching the boats. His hand is burning,but he doesn't let go.And then-he scoots closer. Just barely.I glance down and see the back of his shirt has crawled up,exposing a slice of his back.His skin is smooth and pale.It's the sexiest thing I have ever seen.He shifts again,and my body answers with the same.We're arm against arm, leg against leg.His hand crushes mine, willing me to look at hime.I do.Etienne's dark eyes search mine. "What are we doing?" His voice is strained.He's so beautiful,so perfect. I'm dizzy. My heart pounds,my pulse races. I tilt my face toward his,and he answers with an identical slow tilt toward mine.He closes his eyes.Our lips brush lightly."If you ask me to kiss you,I will," he says.His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists,and I burst into flames. "Kiss me," I say.He does.”