“Hi," I whisper. He peels off my hands and turns toward the aisle. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is," he whispers back.”

“Lola?" Cricket is on his knees at the side of my bed. I feel it. "I'm here," he whispers. "You can talk to me or not talk to me, but I'm here.”

“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.”

“So what happened?""I don't know." Another glance to ensure his continued state of Not Looking, and then I rip off my clothes in one fast swoop. I am now officially stark naked in the room with the most beautiful boy I know. Funny,but this isn't how I imagined this moment.No.Not funny.One hundred percent the exact opposite of funny."I think I maybe,possibly, vaguely remember hitting the snooze button." I jabber to cover my mortification. "Only I guess it was the off button.But I had the alarm on my phone set,too, so I don't know what happened."Underwear,on."Did you turn the ringer back on last night?""What?" I hop into my jeans, a noise he seems to determinedly ignore.His ears are apple red."You went to see a film,right? Don't you set your mobile to silent at the theater?"He's right.I'm so stupid. If I hadn't taken Meredith to A Hard Day's Night, a Beatles movie I know she loves, I would have never turned it off. We'd already be in a taxi to the airport. "The taxi!" I tug my sweater over my head and look up to find myself standing across from a mirror.A mirror St. Clair is facing."It's all right," he says. "I told the driver to wait when I came up here. We'll just have to tip him a little extra." His head is still down. I don't think he saw anything.I clear my throat, and he glances up. Our eyes meet in the mirror,and he jumps. "God! I didn't...I mean,not until just now...""Cool.Yeah,fine." I try to shake it off by looking away,and he does the same. His cheeks are blazing.I edge past him and rinse the white crust off my face while he throws my toothbrush and deodorant and makeup into my luggage, and then we tear downstairs and into the lobby.”

“That was interesting.Who was that?"Matt looks unhappy. "What?" I ask him."You'll talk to that guy,but you won't talk to us anymore?""Sorry," I mumble, and climb out of his car. "He's just a friend.Thanks for the ride."Matt gets out,too. Cherrie starts to follow,but he throws her a sharp look. "So what does that mean?" he calls out. "We aren't friends anymore? You're bailing on us?"I trudge toward the house. "I'm tired, Matt.I'm going to bed."He follows anyway.I dig out my house key,but he grabs my wrist to stop me from opening the door. "Listen,I know you don't want to talk about it,but I just have this one thing to say before you go in there and cry yourself to sleep-""Matt,please-""Toph isn't a nice guy.He's never been a nice guy. I don't know what you ever saw in him.He talks back to everyone, he's completely unreliable, he wears those stupid fake clothes-""Why are you telling me this?" I'm crying again.I pull my wrist from his grasp."I know you didn't like me as much as I liked you. I know you would have rather been with him,and I dealth with that a long time ago.I'm over it."The shame is overwhelming. Even though I knew Matt was aware that I liked Toph,it's awful to hear him say it aloud."But I'm still your friend." He's exasperated. "And I'm sick of seeing you waste your energy on that jerk. You've spent all this time afraid to talk about what was going on between you two,but if you'd bothered to just ask him, you would have discovered that he wasn't worth it. But you didn't.You never asked him, did you?"The weight of hurt is unbearable. "Please leave," I whisper. "Please just leave.""Anna." His voice levels, and he waits for me to look at him. "It was still wrong of him and Bridge not to tell you. Okay? You deserve better than that. And I sincerely hope whomever you were just talking to"-Matt gestures toward the phone in my purse-"is better than that.”

“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.”

“Most people in Atlanta don't have an accent. It's pretty urban. A lot of people speak gangsta, though," I add jokingly. "Fo' shiz," he replies in his polite English accent. I spurt orangey-red soup across the table. St. Clair gives a surprised ha-HA kind of laugh, and I'm laughing too, the painful kind like abdominal crunches. He hands me a napkin to wipe my chin. "Fo'. Shiz." He repeats it solemnly.Cough cough. "Please don't ever stop saying that. It's too-" I gasp. "Much.""You oughtn't to have said that. Now I shall have to save it for special occasions.""My birthday is in February." Cough choke wheeze. "Please don't forget.”