And, since they are theater people, they are all talking. All of them. Simultaneously. They do not need to be heard; they only need to be speaking.

You realize that trying to keep your distance from me will not lessen my affection for you. All efforts to save me from you will fail.

See, popularity is complicated. You have to spend a lot of time thinking about liking; you have to really like being liked, and also sort like being disliked.

And I put the latte down on a table, awash in the happy middle of my greatest adventure.

She raised one leg and gave me all her weight as a I dipped her. She either trusted me or wanted to fall.

Her underwear, her jeans, the comforter, my corduroys and my boxers between us, I thought. Five layers, and yet I felt it, the nervous warmth of touching – a pale reflection of the fireworks of one mouth on another, but a reflection nonetheless. And in the almostness of the moment, I cared at least enough. I wasn’t sure whether I liked her, and doubted whether I could trust her, but I cared at least enough to try to find out. Her on my bed, wide green eyes staring down at me. The enduring mystery of her sly, almost smirking, smile. Five layers between us.

How are the eyes?' 'Oh, excellent,' he said. 'I mean, they're not in my head is the only problem.