"I remember Lena's expression when he knocked on the door; and how Alex had looked at her when she finally let him into the storeroom. I remember exactly what he was wearing, too, and the mess of his hair, the sneakers with their blue-tinged laces. His right shoe was untied. He didn't notice. He didn't notice anything but Lena."

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Alex touches her arm. "You look nice." "Nice?" she repeats. "Try harder, Alex." He flushes adorably. "Really nice," he says. "Next time, try this," Harry says. He reaches for my hand. "Franny, I didn't know what beauty was until I saw you walking toward us a minute ago. "I like this better," I say, pulling away. "At least he sounded like he meant it." "I meant it," Harry says, almost irritably.

— Claire LaZebnik