When the barista calls out my order I tell him to get it. He gives me a pointed look, to which I give him a wink. I've got a killer wink--second-best feature of my face. I'm wondering what the first-best feature of my face would be when he finally gets back with the chai latte. I grab the cup and take a couple sips. The sweetness is killing me and I don't even like coffee shop chai latte, but I also don't say no when people offer to buy me food. Free food is free food is free food, no matter what.

I think he might be saying something important but instead of listening I'm looking at his mouth--his lips are always dry, which I try to think of as a deterrent, but I can only really do that when I wonder hy he's never kissed anyone before. All I have to do is think about his dry lips and then I understand a little more.

Otherwise it's hard to think of them negatively.

As he tells me about his college apps I notice that someone has shifted closer to the other--or maybe both of us have, both of us leaning closer until the sofa cushions spilled us into each other--and now we've ended with his shoulder and hips against mine, slight points of contact that used to make me think something bigger was going on, but I was wrong.

I'm pretty sure I was wrong, at least, but that doesn't stop me from wanting more than I'm getting, and what I'm getting is this: my hip against yours, you making bad jokes about my knee as you rest your own against mine. Which isn't bad at all, I guess. Not bad at all.