“Now that you know my deepest, most embarrassing secret, that I read young adult novels written mostly for thirteen-year-old girls, do you still like me? Can we still go out, or have you just about had enough?” “No, I think I’ll stick with you,” I said, grabbing his hand. The phone rang again, and Ben ran and picked it up. “Los Angeles Public Library, Fairfax Branch, Reference Desk, how may I help you?” he said arrogantly. “No, I’m sorry. We’re closed today. Thanks. Bye.” “Ben!” I said after he hung up. “That was unprofessional!” “Well, you can understand why I didn’t trust you to do it.”
Immediately No
