A waiter comes over and asks Miles if he wants anything. “You’ll need to spend ten dollars if you want to plug into the Wi-Fi,” he adds.

“That’s okay. We don’t need Wi-Fi today,” Miles tells him. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes.”

We grin at each other across our table.

“Clifford’s e-mails alone—” I sputter.

“His e-mail signature from the old days still haunts me.” Miles shudders. “He used to sign off as ‘Da Big Red Dawg.’ ”

I laugh, and it feels so good. Being on the same side, laughing together.

Miles is right. We have so much to talk about—in the real world, offline, as Zoey and Miles and nobody else.

“I think it’s time for a new chart,” I announce. “We should taste-test and rank all the snacks you brought us.”

I flip over to a fresh page in my notebook, blank with possibility, just waiting for the story of Zoey and Miles to be written.

Four Months Later

Four Months Later

MILES

In case those scenes in Ghost haven’t convinced you, let me assure you that renovating a New York City apartment is very, very sexy. Zoey even wore Demi Moore-esque overalls while we destroyed a wall, got sheetrock inside all of our champagne glasses, and drank it to our heart’s content anyway. I may have lead poisoning, but it was all worth it.

I roll over now to pull Zoey closer to me, my muscles feeling well used and achy, but my hands are met with crumpled sheets instead. I force one eye open.

Not only is Zoey fully dressed but she’s almost out the front door already.

“Hey,” I call out to her, my voice still filled with sleep. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She looks back at me. “Where else?” she asks. “There’s a very large, empty table waiting just for me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Listen,” she says, as she pulls her wet hair into a ponytail. She even took a shower already? “If you think a few rounds of mind-blowing sex are enough to keep me from my destiny of Table Champion, you don’t know me very well.”

I smirk. “Mind-blowing sex, eh?” I say, folding my arms behind my head and leaning back into the headboard. “Go on.”

“My mind is blown and my strategy is sound,” she says, as she pulls open our door. “Flattery just bought me another thirty seconds. See ya!” She slams the door behind her.

“You’re ruthless,” I yell, but I also don’t attempt to move out of bed. If this is the consolation prize for losing Table Champion, I don’t think I mind one bit.

Besides, I know she’s saving me a seat.

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

SarvenazTash: Hey

SarahSkilton: Hey

SarvenazTash: Hmmmm . . . well, that accomplished nothing. Maybe Miles is onto something in his handbook.