The cabin smells like leather, Jack, and bad ideas. I should say something. Hi, how are you? Did you have a good week? Favorite Teletubby? Off-year elections thoughts? I’ve done this a million times—gone out with people. A million fake dates. Then why? Why? Why can’t I . . . Why? “I think,” he drawls, “I just heard your head explode.” I turn to him. He’s handsome in a near-painful way, and my head is still in mid-explosion.
