“The internet is such a stupid place.”

“Agreed. But I’m just saying, you think you’re not my style? I’m under the suspicion that you kind of might be everybody’s style, if the comments section is any indicator.”

“You really see me like that? The way you drew me?”

“That’s the way you are. Exactly.”

“Eliot, the character shoots a nail gun and fights three different dudes at once.”

“Okay, so I might have inflated your combat skills a little.”

“And her cheekbones look like they could poke somebody’s eye out.”

“I told you you have a fierce face.”

“I think you might be seeing me through rose-colored glasses.”

“You told me I’m a pretty-boy so I’m willing to bet there are two pairs of glasses involved.”

“Do you think the issue is that we’re seeing each other inaccurately? Or that we each see ourselves inaccurately?”

“Mmm. Good question. Maybe one of the best parts of starting something up with someone is you get to see all your yummy parts through their eyes. Like, I legitimately have been thinking that I was a total loser for how I reacted to the break-in. But then you just described it as me being a gentle person. And . . . that doesn’t sound so bad. I don’t mind being a gentle person. But it literally didn’t occur to me to think of it that way until you mentioned it.”

“So, maybe it’s my job to make sure you see yourself through my eyes?”

“And vice versa. We’ll be each other’s selfie stick. Metaphorically.”

“That doesn’t make sense but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide . . . oh, my God.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just . . . I’m overwhelmed. I said goodbye to you in my head like fifty times since that day on the street. I never thought . . .”

“I didn’t think so either, Jess. I thought you were long gone. I think it’s probably obvious, but I’m so, so glad you’re not gone.”

“I’m definitely not gone.”

“So, can I, like, say hi to you in the halls and stuff?”

“No way, loser. I can’t be seen with a prep like you.”

“Ah. Got it. I totally understand. I need to pull a Sandy from Grease. Maybe I’ll get a tongue piercing and a leather jacket. Would that help?”

“Frida Hawkins would have a coronary.”

“I think she’s gonna have a coronary anyhow when she finds out we’re dating.”

“We’re not dating.”

“What? Are you kidding me? I basically just pledged my undying devotion to you.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never been on a date. Thus, we’re not dating yet.”

“Ah. I see. Well, get your shoes on. I’m grabbing my coat. I’ll be downstairs in thirty seconds.”

“. . .”

“Wait, someone is knocking on my door. Oh, jeez. JD, is that you?”

“Come and see.”