She took a step to the side, leaving my arm to hang.

“All right, what were you going to say?”

“Well,” I said, “I was going to say if this were a movie, it’d be the part where I said you owed me a kiss. But then I remembered that I’m your nerdy best friend now, so I’ll have to ask for, I dunno, like a non-fat almond milk pumpkin spice latte or something.”

“Oh my gosh. I don’t know if I should start by unpacking that stereotype or the part where you know my coffee order.”

“Nah, it’s fine, though. You don’t owe me anything. You know, pal, you’re a lot different from how you were two years ago.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t used to be cool.”

Eliza punched me in the side. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime.” We stepped out of the mall and into a chilly, early October evening. “Am I dropping you off at your house?”

“Duh,” she replied. “Where else would I go?”

“Dunno. I can’t keep up with your boyfriends these days.”

“Neither can I.” She swung her arms, dance-walking across the street with entertaining energy. I matched her dance moves as we traveled through the empty parking lot, keeping her same invisible rhythm. Eliza kept it up until we reached my car, where she clapped at our performance. I bowed, unlocking her door. She curtsied in return, pushing me away before she slid into her seat.

In no hurry, I walked to the driver’s side, taking in the freedom of escaping the mall and soaking up how it felt to be out and about, just the two of us. Lights from the moon and parking lot glinted off my car. It sparkled almost as much as the girl inside it.

RULE NUMBER 10

A bro shalt make the first move.

Finally, it was Friday, the second-best day of the week, the best being Saturday, obviously. I waited in the busy, stuffed-full senior hallway of Cassidy High on my way to fifth period biology. Some dude’s backpack had exploded everywhere—pens rolling into students, highlighters shooting under lockers—which led to a giant traffic jam. I was going to be late. As usual.

Something thorny tapped on my shoulder. “Hey, handsome.” The one and only Madison Hayes walked behind me, looking somewhat normal in her long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

Ding dong, went the bell. Several of my classmates still shoved through the line, and probably half the class wasn’t seated yet; however, Mr. Kendrick, my sadistic teacher, wasn’t the type to care.

“Madison Hayes. The girl I wanted to see. What class do you have?”

“Study hall.”

“Last period on a Friday. Rough.” I rubbed my forehead, dusting off the dirt blowing around from everyone’s sneakers. Apparently, filth could accumulate on you by standing still.

“Torture. Between us . . .” she grabbed my flannel shirt’s collar, “has Carter said anything about me?”

What?

“Honestly I think you’d have better luck with Austin,” I said. “Carter’s really focused on college . . .”