Brent is washing dishes in his narrow kitchen, talking about a new band. It’s touching how much he cares. I’m still young, I carry more baby fat than any real understanding of the world, and this earnestness is novel to me.

He looks at me, “You’re going to love it.” His arms are already around me.

And I feel nothing. This boy thinks he’s in love with me, but this is crazy. He clearly has no idea how lost I am.