Oh, for fuck’s sake, thought Annie, what now? She hoped it wasn’t some bizarre love token, like his severed finger. She unlocked the door and pushed her shopping inside, then crouched down, undid the leather straps, and lifted the lid. Inside were two beige plastic baskets made to look like wicker, a DVD of The Lost Boys, a sachet of southern fried seasoning, and a small cool-box containing a pack of six chicken drumsticks and a bag of frozen French fries. A bottle of cream soda lay in the bottom, along with a packet of butterscotch flavor Instant Whip and a pint of milk.

Oh, he’s good, she thought. He’s pulling out the big guns this time. She tried to remain unmoved by the gesture, but the basket lit a scene in her mind. It had been her friend Claire’s seventeenth birthday. A few friends gathered in her living room to watch a rented video of The Lost Boys. Annie sat on a cushion on the floor. Max was next to her. Max wasn’t her boyfriend, but she fancied him in that desperate way that only teenagers can: all-consuming, breath-stuttering, electric passion that torments and exhilarates. She remembered the intoxication of his nearness. How she thought her heart would explode out of her chest as his warm hand reached for hers and held it. Her friends whooped and shrieked as Corey Haim speared a vampire through a stereo on the TV. But Annie didn’t care about The Lost Boys anymore because Max Sharpe, hottest boy in sixth form, was leaning toward her. In that moment, she felt her whole life had been a mere prelude to French kissing Max on Claire Smith’s living room floor. As the credits rolled, Claire’s mum served up southern fried chicken and chips in baskets, and Annie and Max became an item.

Shit! thought Annie. How does he do that?

“Hello!”

Annie jumped, startled, and almost lost her footing, clinging to the handrail to steady herself. “Holy shit!” The memory bubble popped, and Annie suddenly felt the cold mist seeping through her clothes.

“Sorry!” Paul laughed. He was grinning up at her from the bottom step. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Annie. “I was lost in my own little world. How are you?”

“I’m good,” said Paul. “You?”

“Fine,” said Annie, still distracted by the hamper.

“I’ve bought friendship flowers,” said Paul. He waved a bunch of late-flowering hydrangeas. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us. I think we get on really well.” He paused. “It would be a shame for one night to stop us hanging out as friends.”

Annie smiled. What a grown-up, she thought. How refreshing.

“I completely agree,” she said. “As a matter of fact, how would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Great!” said Paul. “When?”