No: What the heck happened? Or: Why did you go from nearly kissing me to tossing me across your yard and into the patio furniture?

Like when you scrape your knee and you get a scar, but then the scar fades so much that no one can see it but you. But you know where it is. Cuz you remember what caused it. And no matter how hard you try, you can never forget how bad it hurt when it first happened.

Well, for that matter, I was also a good friend of Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, Francis Bacon, Albert Einstein, and John, Paul, George, and Ringo." He pauses, seeing the blank look on my face and groaning when he says, "Christ, Ever, the Beatles!" He shakes his head and laughs. "God, you make me feel old.

And now I'm right back where I started. Sober and miserable.

The heart knows no logic, and rarely corresponds with the brain.

Because that was some mega tense awkwardness, a real 'Hello my name is Ever and I'll be your next stalker' kind of moment.

Some may say I'm perceptive" "And what would you say?" I ask, my voice edgy, tired of being toyed with. "I'd say I agree.