“Rex Carrington! You managed to pass out in the arms of the Rex Carrington!”

The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. “Okaaay.”

“Do you really not know who Rex Carrington is? He only holds the record for the most points scored in a Texas high school basketball game. Ever. Like, in the history of the world. And he’s only a junior! He’s ESPN’s high school player of the year, for Christ’s sake!”

“Wait, are you talking about that boy Daddy calls the next LeBron? I thought he went to Yates.”

“Yes, him! He moved to Woodside this year. And look! I found a video of him catching you,” he says, and pulls his iPhone from his pocket.

Of course, Cole thinks he’s king of the Internet. But do I thank the king and kindly ask him to hurry up because I’m about to lose my mind in anticipation of seeing the boy’s face again?

No.

Do I obey the urge surging through my body to squeal with glee?

Absolutely not.

The title of the YouTube video is “Rex Carrington to the Rescue!” Come on, could it get any cheesier? Cole presses Play and I stare at the screen, hoping to get a glimpse of the boy’s face as he blew me a kiss. But the camera angle is behind him, and whoever made the video started late. So there’s only me and my frizzy red hair, collapsing in his arms, looking all damsel-in-distress dramatic. “Uh, cut it off,” I moan.

“What? It’s brilliant!” Cole says.

“It doesn’t even have the part where he blew me the kiss,” I complain, and eye my dinner menu, still on the hospital tray beside the bland chicken, white rice, and pale, limp broccoli I picked at. On the back of it, I’d written:

The very first kisses were blown in Mesopotamia as a way to get in good with the gods.

Until I get home and unearth the original from my bedroom wall, it’ll have to do. That fact, together with Rex’s kiss, has to be a sign, right?

“Blew you a kiss?” Cole asks.

“Yeah, they didn’t catch it on the video, but Rex blew me a kiss while he was standing at the free-throw line.”

“No, that’s part of his free-throw routine.”

“The kiss?”

“Yeah, he blows a kiss every time he goes to the line,” Cole says, and snaps a picture of me.

“Come on, Cole. You know I’m rough,” I whine.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and takes another pic—always his response.

“Anyway, I’m telling you, Rex blew me a kiss. I mean, he was looking dead at me.”

“Oh, I see. You wanted him to blow you a kiss.”

“No, I’m just stating the facts.”