“I told him your loins were clearly burning, and he should man up and make a move.""You did not!""I did. And if he doesn't, then I suggest you jump his bones."...I finally register what he's wearing. It's a handsome skinny black suit with a shiny sheen. The pants are too short - on purpose, of course - exposing his usual pointy shoes and a pair of blue socks that match my dress exactly.And I totally want to jump him.”

“He stares at his hands. Whatever word he wrote there, its been crossed off. There's only a black box. "Lola, you were the only person I wanted there that night. I was crazy about you, but I didn't know what to do. It was paralyzing. There were so many times when I wanted to take your hand, but...I couldn't. That one small move felt impossible." Now I'm staring at my hands, too. "I would have let you take it." "I know." His voice croaks.”

“Cricket removes his hand. I blink at him, and he cautiously offers his arm. I hesitate. And then I take it. And then we're so close that I smell him. I smell him. His scent is clean like a bar of soap, but with a sweet hint of mechanical oil. We don't speak as he leads me across the street to the bus stop. I press against him. Just a little. His other arm jumps, and he lowers it. But then he raises it again, slowly, and his hand comes to rest on top of mine. It scorches. The heat carries a message: I care about you. I want to be connected to you. Don't let go.”

“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.”

“Cricket walks several steps behind me. It's a careful distance. I wonder if he's looking at my butt.WHY DID I JUST THINK THAT? Now my butt feels COLOSSAL. Maybe he's looking at my legs. Is that better? Or worse? Do I want him looking at me? I hold on to the bottom of my dress as I climb into the backseat and crawl to the other side. I'm sure he's looking at my butt. He has to be. It's huge, and it's right there, and it's huge.No. I'm acting crazy.I glance over, and he smiles at me as he buckles his seat belt. My cheeks grow warm.WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”

“She's probably just tired of seeing you miserable.Like we all are," I add. "I'm sure...I'm sure she's as crazy about you as ever.""Hmm." He watches me put away my own shoes and empty the contents of my pockets. "What about you?" he asks, after a minute."What about me?"St. Clair examines his watch. "Sideburns. You'll be seeing him next month."He's reestablishing...what? The boundary line? That he's taken, and I'm spoken for? Except I'm not. Not really.But I can't bear to say this now that he's mentioned Ellie. "Yeah,I can't wait to see him again. He's a funny guy, you'd like him.I'm gonna see his band play at Christmas. Toph's a great guy, you'd really like him. Oh. I already said that,didn't I? But you would. He's really...funny."Shut up,Anna. Shut.Up.St. Clair unbuckles and rebuckles and unbuckles his watchband."I'm beat," I say. And it's the truth. As always, our conversation has exhausted me. I crawl into bed and wonder what he'll do.Lie on my floor? Go back to his room? But he places his watch on my desk and climbs onto my bed. He slides up next to me. He's on top of the covers, and I'm underneath. We're still fully dressed,minus our shoes, and the whole situation is beyond awkward.He hops up.I'm sure he's about to leave,and I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed,but...he flips off my light.My room is pitch-black. He shuffles back toward my bed and smacks into it."Oof," he says."Hey,there's a bed there.""Thanks for the warning.""No problem.""It's freezing in here.Do you have a fan on or something?""It's the wind.My window won't shut all the way.I have a towel stuffed under it, but it doesn't really help."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 my 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.""...""...""St. Clair?""Yeah?""Your elbow is murdering my back.""Bollocks.Sorry." He shifts,and then shifts again,and then again,until we're comfortable.One of his legs rests against mine.Despite the two layers of pants between us,I feel naked and vulnerable. He shifts again and now my entire leg, from calf to thigh, rests against his. I smell his hair. Mmm.NO!I swallow,and it's so loud.He coughs again. I'm trying not to squirm. After what feels like hours but is surely only minutes,his breath slows and his body relaxes.I finally begin to relax, too. I want to memorize his scent and the touch of his skin-one of his arms, now against mine-and the solidness os his body.No matter what happens,I'll remember this for the rest of my life.I study his profile.His lips,his nose, his eyelashes.He's so beautiful.”

“The wind rattles the panes, and the lights buzz softly in the hall. He sleeps soundly.How long has it been since he's had a decent night's rest? There's another uncomfortable tug on my heart.Why do I care so much about him,and why do I wish I didn't? How can one person make me so confused all of the time?What is that? Is it lust? Or something else altogether? And is it even possible for me to feel this way about him without these feelings being reciprocated? He said that he liked me. He did.And even though he was drunk, he wouldn't have said it if there wasn't at least some truth to it. Right?I don't know.Like every time I'm with him,I don't know anything.He scoots closer to me in his sleep. His breath is warm against my neck.I don't know anything. He's so beautiful, so perfect. I wonder if he...if I...A ray of light glares into my eyes, and I squint,disoriented. Daylight. The red numbers on my clock read 11:27. Huh. Did I mean to sleep in? What day is it? And then I see the body in bed next to me.And I nearly jump out of my skin.So it wasn't a dream.His mouth is parted,and the sheets are kicked off.One of his hands rests on his stomach.His shirt has hiked up,and I can see his abdomen.My gaze is transfixed.Holy crap.I just slept with St. Clair.”