“Winnie Baker,” I said. “It’s lovely to meet you in person.” His smile faded a little, the dimple disappearing under the beard. “You don’t remember meeting me before?” he asked. “At the Teen Choice Awards? I’m Surfboard Guy, remember?” “I thought it was more polite not to mention it,” I said delicately, and then the dimple reappeared. “You don’t ever have to be polite with me,” he said, finally taking my hand, and my stomach did the falling thing again as his hand practically swallowed mine in the handshake. It was shockingly warm in the cold room, and maybe the rest of him was that warm too.
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