She’d be even less sure if she knew what we did in the darkroom.

I braid my hair. Unbraid it. Brush it a thousand times. Dark makeup. Light makeup. Wash it all off. Try again. Okay, this is stupid, because the only thing I need is my best jeans—the one pair of jeans that fits so absolutely perfectly, I can completely relax when I’m wearing them. Those jeans. I’m wearing them and my perfect black flats, and the rest doesn’t matter.

It’s just Lucky.

It was just a kiss.

After the Nook closes, I use my digital camera to get some experimental shots of the Karrases’ new window from the across the street between breaks in the traffic. They’re a bit more Art than the Karrases would probably prefer. They just want pictures for a website; any monkey with a DSLR could take them. But I’m a little wired and anxious right now, and everything in my lens is hyper saturated and full of odd angles.

It’s just Lucky.

It was just a kiss.

Lucky and his leather jacket are waiting for me—no Bean this time—when I cross the street and make it over to him, super cool, my camera hanging around my neck, best jeans and perfect flats.… You can do this, everything is fine …

“Hey.”

One word. That’s all he says. And all at once, my body suddenly turns into a dark cave filled with a thousand bats that are all trying to escape in a panic, flapping their batty wings and gnawing at my insides with their tiny vampire teeth.

O-o-o-h, what is happening to me?

Must calm down.

Maybe he doesn’t notice, because his gaze swings from me to the windows above the Nook. “So … is that your mom watching us from your apartment?”

“Yes, indeed-y,” I say, moving around him to get a better angle of the boatyard’s sign.

“Wow. Okay. I didn’t think she meant it that literally. About watching us.”

“She did.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Tiny bat wings. So nervous.

“Nothing. Can you move? You’re blocking …”

“Oh, sorry. Is that better?”

“Yep. Thanks.”

“Josie?”

“Are these real photos that your parents want, or is this just a ruse?”

“No,” he says as early evening traffic speeds past us, bumping along the setts. “I mean, yes. I told my mom about this. She said it would be nice to have better photos on the website. They need to print new catalogs, so she’ll use them there, too. It’s legit.”

“I just didn’t want to waste my time if this is fake.”

“You mean, fake like when you hired me to pilot you around the harbor?”

“That was a completely real scam to pay you back for the department store window. And just when I’d scrimped and saved up enough dough to hire Captain Lucky again—”