“I close his fingers around the gift. “I threw away yourbottle cap, because it killed me to look at. But I never couldthrow away this. I’ve been waiting to give it to you for twoand a half years.”“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers.“I’m almost full,” I say. “Thank you for waiting for me, too.”

“I slide my hand between our mouths, just in time. His lipsare soft against my palm. I slowly, slowly remove it. “No, Idon’t love Max anymore. But I don’t want to give you thisbroken, empty me. I want you to have me when I’m full,when I can give something back to you. I don’t have much togive right now.”Cricket’s limbs are still, but his chest is pounding hardagainst my own. “But you’ll want me someday? That feelingyou once had for me … that hasn’t left either?”Our hearts beat the same wild rhythm. They’re playing thesame song.“It never left,” I say.”

“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.”

“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.”

“He pats his way around the bed and slides back in. 'Ow,' he says.'Yes?''My belt. Would it be weird...'I’m thankful he can’t see me blush. 'Of course not.' And I listen to the slap of leather as he pulls it out of his belt loops. He lays it gently on my hardwood floor.'Um,' he says. 'Would it be weird—''YES.''Oh, piss off. I’m not talking trousers. I only want under the blankets.That breeze is horrible.' He slides underneath, and now we’re lying side by side. In my narrow bed. Funny, but I never imagined my first sleepover with a guy being, well, a sleepover.'All we need now are 'Sixteen Candles' and a game of Truth or Dare.'He coughs. 'Wh-what?''The movie, pervert. I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve had a sleepover.'A pause. 'Oh.”

“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.”

“He looks up.Our eyes lock,and he breaks into a slow smile. My heart beats faster and faster. Almost there.He sets down his book and stands.And then this-the moment he calls my name-is the real moment everything changes.He is no longer St. Clair, everyone's pal, everyone's friend.He is Etienne. Etienne,like the night we met. He is Etienne,he is my friend.He is so much more.Etienne.My feet trip in three syllables. E-ti-enne. E-ti-enne, E-ti-enne. His name coats my tongue like melting chocolate. He is so beautiful, so perfect.My throat catches as he opens his arms and wraps me in a hug.My heart pounds furiously,and I'm embarrassed,because I know he feels it. We break apart, and I stagger backward. He catches me before I fall down the stairs."Whoa," he says. But I don't think he means me falling.I blush and blame it on clumsiness. "Yeesh,that could've been bad."Phew.A steady voice.He looks dazed. "Are you all right?"I realize his hands are still on my shoulders,and my entire body stiffens underneath his touch. "Yeah.Great. Super!""Hey,Anna. How was your break?"John.I forget he was here.Etienne lets go of me carefully as I acknowledge Josh,but the whole time we're chatting, I wish he'd return to drawing and leave us alone. After a minute, he glances behind me-to where Etienne is standing-and gets a funny expression on hs face. His speech trails off,and he buries his nose in his sketchbook. I look back, but Etienne's own face has been wiped blank.We sit on the steps together. I haven't been this nervous around him since the first week of school. My mind is tangled, my tongue tied,my stomach in knots. "Well," he says, after an excruciating minute. "Did we use up all our conversation over the holiday?"The pressure inside me eases enough to speak. "Guess I'll go back to the dorm." I pretend to stand, and he laughs."I have something for you." He pulls me back down by my sleeve. "A late Christmas present.""For me? But I didn't get you anything!"He reaches into a coat pocket and brings out his hand in a fist, closed around something very small. "It's not much,so don't get excited.""Ooo,what is it?""I saw it when I was out with Mum, and it made me think of you-""Etienne! Come on!"He blinks at hearing his first name. My face turns red, and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation that he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His expression turns to amazement as he says, "Close your eyes and hold out your hand."Still blushing,I hold one out. His fingers brush against my palm, and my hand jerks back as if he were electrified. Something goes flying and lands with a faith dink behind us. I open my eyes. He's staring at me, equally stunned."Whoops," I say.He tilts his head at me."I think...I think it landed back here." I scramble to my feet, but I don't even know what I'm looking for. I never felt what he placed in my hands. I only felt him. "I don't see anything! Just pebbles and pigeon droppings," I add,trying to act normal.Where is it? What is it?"Here." He plucks something tiny and yellow from the steps above him. I fumble back and hold out my hand again, bracing myself for the contact. Etienne pauses and then drops it from a few inches above my hand.As if he's avoiding me,too.It's a glass bead.A banana.He clears his throat. "I know you said Bridgette was the only one who could call you "Banana," but Mum was feeling better last weekend,so I took her to her favorite bead shop. I saw that and thought of you.I hope you don't mind someone else adding to your collection. Especially since you and Bridgette...you know..."I close my hand around the bead. "Thank you.""Mum wondered why I wanted it.""What did you tell her?""That it was for you,of course." He says this like, duh.I beam.The bead is so lightweight I hardly feel it, except for the teeny cold patch it leaves in my palm.”