“‘Spider-Bee-Man’?” Gunnar’s whole face lights up. “That’s … adorable. Did it work?”

“She hasn’t been stung since,” I answer smugly, popping another nacho into my mouth. How can something composed of one hundred percent recycled plastic taste so good? “Um, okay. Number the second: I’ve never broken a bone.” I think. Instinctively, I flex my formerly injured elbow, remembering Jude’s insistence that I heal it with some of his blood—and how Gunnar examined it the night it happened, his gentle touch giving me goose bumps as big as Tesla coils. “I mean, I haven’t broken any before tonight. I’m pretty sure I left fragments of my spine and pelvis all over the ice out there.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gunnar waves his hand. “They’ve got a whole huge machine that gets rid of all the bone pieces at the end of the night.”

“And third, um…” I’m a mystic vessel cursed to bring forth a vampire deity that will doom humankind forever! I scramble for anything else to say, and, unfortunately, what I come up with is somehow even worse. “This is … my first date.”

Gunnar waits politely for more, and when I don’t add to the statement, his expression undergoes a change. “Your first date. Not, like … you mean … ever?”

Shrugging nervously, I try to make it a joke. “Well, I went to a dance with Leesha Gardner in middle school. But that was mostly as friends, and by the end of the night we’d both confessed to having secret crushes on Boyd Crandall. So.” Gunnar smiles—mildly, this time—and heat steals into my cheeks. “Anyway, sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just … I’m kind of a menace to society. Forget I said it, okay?”

“Auggie, you don’t—”

“The real third thing that’s interesting about me is I can fit my whole fist in my mouth!” I announce haphazardly, not even sure if this is true. Then, as I attempt it, I discover that it is in fact absolutely not true, but the misadventure finally brings a more genuine laugh out of Gunnar. Wiping the saliva off my fingers, I say, “Okay, your turn. What are three things I don’t know about Gunnar … whatever your last name is? And if you tell me your last name, it doesn’t count as one of the things!”

“Larsen. It’s Gunnar Larsen.” He looks down at the table with a shy grin. “Okay. So, for starters, English is my second language. I’m originally from Norway, although I’ve pretty much lost my accent by now.”

“Wow!” I blurt, genuinely impressed. “Say something in Norwegian!”