Page 67 of Promise Me Sunshine

“What do you mean?”

“You make googoo eyes at the doorman so obviously that he has to address it with you. You get firmly rejected. And it doesn’t even bother you at all. To the extent that you can laugh and chat and watch soccer with him.”

I consider this analysis. “You think I should have spent more energy hiding my feelings? Or that I should be too embarrassed to talk to Emil anymore?”

“Notshould.It’s just…most peoplewould.”

“Having a crush isn’t embarrassing to me.”

He studies me. “And getting rejected? It doesn’t hurt? Not even your pride?”

“I mean…it was all a fantasy anyways, right? So, kind of, who cares?” Now I’m the one studying him. “How doyoutell someone you have feelings for them?”

He pushes his lips out and considers. “Michelle Walker in high school, I caught up to her at a football game and said ‘let’s date.’ ”

“Amazing. What happened next?”

“We made out in my car.”

“So she said yes, I take it?”

“No, actually. But we kept making out for a few weeks after that.”

“You dog.”

“Shewas the dog. I was the one who wanted commitment.”

“And with Kira? How did it all unfold with her?”

“Oh.” He extends his feet and thinks back. “She asked me to go to her cousin’s christening with her.”

“Wow.” I’m all eyes. “Heck of a first date.”

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be a date. It was just a friend thing.”

“Uh-huh.” Palpable skepticism on my end.

“But then one of her aunts said, ‘Introduce me to your boyfriend.’ And she said, ‘This is Miles.’ And so, that was kind of that.”

I laugh and poke his arm. “What do you mean that was that? That’s definitely not how people normally decide to be boyfriend and girlfriend!”

“Well, I didn’t object and then we slept together that night, so…”

“Ah, well.” I nod. “Thatis definitely one of the ways people become boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Not the most romantic.” He sighs and crosses his ankles in the other direction.

I poke him again. “I’m sure you’re plenty romantic when motivated.”

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t agree or disagree. “So, what’s this errand?”

“Um? Sandwiches? Really good ones?” It’s an obvious lie and he just laughs and leaves me to my deception.

I haul him off the train and down one block and then the next. It’s perfect sweatshirt weather. The trees on each block shake their green-golden leaves in the breeze. We pull up to a trendy shop with a giant pair of spectacles over the door.

He turns and gapes at me. “For me or for you?” he demands.

“I’m not the one who looks like this when reading.” I squint like I’m trying to make out a distant cosmos with the naked eye.

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