“Let’s at least go check it out.” She pulls open her door. “This could be the start of your glorious film career.”

“I’m not getting out of the car.”

And then we see him—the guy from yesterday, with the eyes like melted chocolate and the windblown brown hair. James Dean. He emerges from inside the video store holding a big square chalkboard and then props it up on the sidewalk. Crouching down in front of it, he pulls a piece of chalk out of his pocket and begins to write. I squint but can’t make out what it says.

“Okay, maybe I’ll get out of the car.”

Hannah turns to me with sparkling eyes. “Do you think he works there?”

“Unless he’s vandalizing the storefront.”

James Dean turns in our direction, and we both instinctively back away from the window. He rubs his hands together and blows into his fingerless gloves, little puffs of steam rising in the air. I can just barely see his shirt from here, black, SCORSESE written across the front in block letters. It’s amazing.

I pull down the passenger-side visor and study myself in the little mirror. My hair is falling out of its braid, and it looks a bit like I’ve just gone for a run. But maybe James Dean will think I’m athletic. Probably not.

“Do I look okay?”

“You are a beautiful unicorn princess,” Hannah says. “Now let’s go.” And before I have a chance to object, she jumps out of the car, yellow boots crunching into the snow. By the time I climb out after her, she’s already halfway across the parking lot, easily maneuvering over the slick patches of ice.

“Hannah, wait!” I call out, trying to catch up. The ground is slippery beneath my feet, and I’m trying to go as fast as I can while remaining upright. She’s almost at the sidewalk now, and turns once she’s hopped up onto the curb. James Dean turns too, and from this distance, I can see that his cheeks and the tip of his nose are flushed pink from the cold. It’s adorable.