“But you’re not wrong about the north-side ice cream,” he said. “It is good. It is special. It’s still ice cream. You’re still lucky to have it.”

Summer nodded.

“It’s not your fault,” Benji said, “that you don’t realize there’s superior soft serve.”

“This analogy has several weaknesses,” Summer said. “Do you really think I was lucky to fall in love with Charlie?”

“I think he was lucky to fall in love with you.”

She shook her head. She felt wobbly. “Wrap it up,” she said. “What’s your closing statement?”

He tugged on her coat. “You can trust yourself to fall in love, Summer. You’ll know what it feels like to have something better.”

Benji was towering over her. Summer’s head was tipped all the way back, like a kid watching her balloon fly away. It was dark out, but she could see how intensely he was looking down at her. Even his eyes were too loud.

“I like being your friend,” she said quietly.

“I like being your friend,” he said, exhaling a step away from her.

Summer caught the front of his jacket. “No. Wait. It’s just—It’s hard for me to imagine you . . . wanting me. Like that.”

“But I do,” he said.

“But so did Charlie once, you know? And now he doesn’t even like me!”

“I don’t like anything that he likes!” Benji shouted. “That guy’s a dipshit!”

Summer laughed. She fisted her hand in his coat. “I don’t want to talk about Charlie,” she said, shaking her head.

“Good.”

Her voice dropped: “It just doesn’t bode well for me. As a sustainable object of affection.”

“Nothing that happened in the past applies to me,” Benji said. “I’m an entirely new variable.”

“An entirely new variable,” Summer repeated, hanging on to his coat.

Benji touched her hand.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I feel so much better. Now. Than I did. I like feeling better.”

“Do you like me, Summer?”

Summer nodded. Once. Then again. She kept nodding. With her chin in the air.

Benji pulled her a little closer. “You can trust yourself to fall in love.” He pulled her closer. “You can trust me to catch you.”

Summer’s eyes were swimming with tears. (It felt okay. It felt terrifying. It felt like morning.) She stood on tiptoe, but it wasn’t enough. “I trust you,” she swore.

Benji put his arms around Summer and swung her up onto a concrete ledge at the edge of the sidewalk. She barely had time to get her feet under her. They were eye to eye now, for the first time ever—Benji’s eyes were swimming, too. Summer carefully put her arms around his neck. It was like hugging an oak tree. She laughed a little. She was still crying. She was scared.