I wonder if Nico’s headache went away and he was able to get some sleep. I wonder if he was at least a little bit serious when he said we should date each other. Because now that the idea has wormed its way into my mind, I can’t get rid of it. Switching positions, I picture Nico’s scowling face and summer-green eyes. I shouldn’t like him; I shouldn’t even want to be friends with him. But, absurdly, I want to kiss him.
