“He is, though, right? I mean, if you’ve got a thing for him.”

I’ve been trying very, very hard not to think of him that way, not to think about his long fingers strumming the guitar, or the stormy gray eyes that crinkle so surprisingly when I get a rare smile, or the way his biceps ripple when he takes a shot. If I think too much about how badly I want to press my thumb into his slightly pouty lower lip, or curl into his long, lean body every time we’re sitting on the same bed, I’m afraid I’ll just … do it. “Some might say so” is all I’m willing to give.

“Uh-huh. So, does he? See you?”

I think back to the talent show, not the during but the after, when he came knocking on my door to make sure I was all right. To the very fact that he knew I wasn’t. “He does.”

“Good. You deserve a guy who does. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Noted. Thank you,” I add softly. “And you? Anyone new in your life I should know about?”

There’s a pause, and I jump on it immediately. “Oh my God, there is. Do I know him? Or her? Or them?”

“Them,” she says shyly, and I can’t help squealing into the phone because I have never heard Claire express interest in anyone in the entirety of our friendship. “And you are not to make a big deal out of this.”

“Are you kidding? I have talked your ear off about boys for years, and now you have a person, and I must know everything. Do they go to Greentree?”

“Their name is Lowen and they go to my art camp. We’ve been hanging out the last few weeks. They’re, uh, also ace, which is nice.”

“That is nice,” I say, smiling into the phone as I settle back into the pillows. Guess Claire’s figured out a lot in my absence, and it’s not lost on me that she’s actively choosing to share it with me now. “Maybe I’ll get to meet them when I come home for Thanksgiving?”

“That’d be cool,” she says. “I have to run—my mom’s been calling me down to dinner for like five minutes already, but send me a picture of the guy. I’ll tell you whether it’s worth it.”

“Deal. Talk soon?”

“Hell yeah.”

We hang up, and I dig through my photos until I find one from my Bad Girl Day, a photo of Salem doing a model pose with his hand on his chin. At the time I thought it was funny in an absurd way, his silly photo shoot following mine, but now that I look at it closely, I … can’t stop looking at it.

Crap.