“Benji . . .” Summer said. And what she meant was, A thousand mix CDs won’t be enough if you ever stop loving me.

Summer met Benji in the cafeteria most nights. They both came straight from class. Sometimes Michelle sat with them. Not usually.

He was late tonight, and Summer wondered if she should eat her mashed potatoes before they got cold.

But then he was there, and he didn’t have a tray. He was holding two bowls.

“What’s this?” she asked.

He set a bowl of ice cream in front of her. “An appetizer.”

Summer giggled. “Don’t you need protein?”

“I’ll have protein for dessert.” He sat down with his own bowl. “And don’t lecture me on nutrition. You eat like a seven-year-old.”

“Benji . . .” Summer said. She hadn’t touched her ice cream.

He took a bite, but he was listening.

“I’m still a romantic,” she said.

“That’s good to hear.”

“I still believe in true love.”

He nodded. “Your ice cream is already melting.”

“Benji,” she whispered.

He looked up at Summer and grinned like he had her number.

He very definitely did.

The Snow Ball

IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE EVE, AND OWEN AND Libby weren’t going to watch Meet Me in St. Louis together.

Even though it was Christmas Eve Eve, and they always watched Meet Me in St. Louis together on Christmas Eve Eve.

Well . . . always for the last three years.

Libby and Owen met freshman year when they were both trying out for the fall play. Neither of them got a part. They ended up as stagehands, wearing black T-shirts and black work gloves, and realizing that they always had something to say to each other. Being with Owen was easy—Libby could be herself. (She couldn’t even manage that when she was alone.)

They had everything important in common—and the ways that they were different were interesting, not irritating.

(Well. Libby never got irritated with Owen. He got irritated with her sometimes. But . . . everybody got irritated with Libby. Her mom said she was abrasive. The nice thing about Owen was that he didn’t seem to mind being irritated with her. Like being irritated with her ultimately wasn’t that irritating for him.)

They both loved acting. They loved theater. And old movies. They loved quoting their favorite things at each other. They loved having theme nights. Theme weeks. They loved rituals. They both loved Christmas.

It was Libby’s idea to spend their first Christmas as best friends watching all their favorite Christmas movies together.

And then the next year, when they did it again, Owen had said, “I guess this is our tradition now.”

Libby had loved that. That he’d said that. She loved having traditions with Owen. She loved that their whole friendship was a secret handshake.