“Nicholas Jedediah Fraser,” she said, “you sound like your mother. It is not a good look.” Telling Cole he was behaving like his mother was the fastest way to get him to stop doing whatever awful, WASP-y thing he didn’t realize he was doing. Like food policing.

“Oh, jeez, babe, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, his eyes widening with horror. “Can I start over? Are you okay? Are you hiding? Why are you still in bed? Wait, let me put my phone down.” The angle changed steeply and then he was back, his chin propped on his fist.

“I haven’t slept yet,” she admitted. “If I tell you something, will you promise to try so, so hard not to make fun of me?”

Cole rubbed his hands together in mock villainous glee. “I will solemnly promise to try.”

“I have”—Miriam grimaced—“a crush. On Noelle.” She hid her face in her hands before peeking through her fingers at Cole.

He was trying to school his face into something that resembled shock. He failed.

“Miriam, I’m sorry, did you think this was a secret?” he asked. “Your pupils dilate, your cheeks flush, and your hairline sweats. Like, the moment she walks into a room. You’re basically a walking pheromone.”

“She’s so hot,” Miriam sighed. “But you didn’t say anything. You’ve never not said anything. Ever. About anything.”

Cole shrugged. “I was waiting for you to be ready to talk about it.”

“I can’t really, right? Have feelings for her? It’s just that I’m grieving Cass and searching for some kind of lifeboat, and I snagged on Noelle because she loved Cass, too.” Miriam asked. “Please tell me I’m imagining this. I’ve known her for like four minutes.”

“Or you’ve been in close proximity for a month and a half,” Cole said, “and sometimes it only takes a minute to meet the right one. It’s true she’s not your usual type. She’s not blonde or intense and disconcerting. I guess you might be rebounding. But I did say we were going to find love up in the mountains!”

“I do not only date intense blonde women, Cole,” Miriam protested.

“No, sometimes you date intense blond nonbinary people, and there was that very ill-advised poli-sci dude in junior year,” Cole said, counting on his fingers teasingly.

Miriam rolled her eyes, mostly because he was right. Especially about that poli-sci dude.

“She’s handsome, and she listens, and I think I’ve been sleeping on brunettes,” she admitted. “She’s so much better than my regular type.” She chewed the skin on the side of her nail. “She’s so good with her hands. And so…voluptuous.” She was afraid her eyes had turned into cartoon hearts.