Benji glanced over at her. He was licking his bottom lip. “That dipshit wasn’t the most magical thing that’s ever going to happen to you. How old are you, twenty?”

“I’m twenty-one,” she said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“You look forty.”

Benji laughed. Too loud. People walking by looked at them. “That wasn’t the most magical thing that’s ever going to happen to you,” he said.

There was a CD slid under her door when she woke up the next morning, and she knew that it was from Benji.

More Songs for Getting Further Over Dipshits.

Summer wished that she still had a Discman.

Track 1 was lovely. Joni Mitchell. “Blue.” Summer was a sucker for women with high voices and pianos. That wasn’t a secret.

Track 2 was a whispery rap song.

Track 3 was Wings again—Benji clearly had a thing for Wings. They weren’t so bad.

Track 4 was more folk music. Guitars. Harmonies. It was a song that felt like morning.

Track 5 was cheesy. A song from the sixties—“Sunday Will Never Be the Same.” Summer laughed and skipped it. (She’d listen to it all the way through, the next time around.)

None of these songs were sad, really.

None of them made Summer cry.

They made her feel a little tearful.

She thought of the time Charlie had surprised her on her birthday with red velvet cake. He really wasn’t a dipshit. This would be so much easier if he was.

Benji wouldn’t let her taste his hemp hearts. He said they were slightly illegal.

Hemp hearts tasted like pine nuts.

Summer had three slots in her CD carousel. She could listen to all three of Benji’s CDs one after another. Three and a half hours of music. She liked the sliding noise the carousel made between discs.

“Have you ever been in love?” Summer asked.

Benji was eating a salad with grilled chicken strips and green peppers and all his usual garbage. “No. I mean—yes. Maybe.” He glanced up at her. “I’ve had deep feelings.”

“But you’ve been dumped . . .”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Um . . .”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said.

“It’s all right.” Benji squared his broad (bare) shoulders. “Once was in high school. She wanted to date someone else.”

“Oof, I’m sorry. Was it terrible?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve dated a few people here,” he said. “In college. Nothing serious . . . Well, one thing seemed serious. But it wasn’t. I don’t know. I’ve made out with a lot of girls at parties.”

Summer was surprised. “You have?”

He looked a little offended, but he still laughed. “Yeah.”

“This is like the opposite of finding out that someone has hidden depths. You have hidden shallows.”

Benji just laughed.

“I’m not the make-out-at-parties type,” she said.

“I can tell.”