Page 54 of Let’s Make a Scene

I blush harder. “Er… yeah,” I mumble.

Jack makes a thoughtful noise. “Have you ever seen While You Were Sleeping?”

“What?” I ask, thrown by the seemingly random segue.

“While You Were Sleeping,” he continues. “It’s a film—”

I cut him off. “Um, yes, I have seen the seminal 1995 classic While You Were Sleeping,” I huff. “And it’s not just a film; it is a work of cinematic perfection. Hannah and I watch it every Christmas. Why?”

Jack’s smile is back, the really good, charming one, the one that makes it feel like we’re in cahoots. “Because I was thinking instead of kissing, I could just… lean.”

My breath catches. “You mean like Bill Pullman does in the movie?”

“Yeah.”

My brain goes fuzzy, because while what Jack is suggesting might sound like it’s a step down from kissing, everyone knows that the Bill-Pullman-Leaning scene in While You Were Sleeping is the hottest thing to ever happen.

“ ‘Leaning,’ ” Jack says, directly quoting the film, his voice going soft and gravely like Bill’s does, “ ‘involves wanting and accepting…’ ”

Dead. I am dead.

“Yes, I know the line,” I say breathlessly, aiming for brisk. “I know the scene, and I guess it could work. It could be better, I mean. I don’t know. Ha. Hahahaha.” Now I am laughing, and I sound like I’ve been sucking down a load of helium.

Get it together, Cyn!

“Cool,” Jack agrees, politely ignoring whatever is happening to me. “And what if we hold hands? Holding hands isn’t really a big ‘friend’ thing once you’re over the age of seven.”

“I don’t know,” I point out. “You are eating a bright blue ice-cream cone.”

“With rainbow sprinkles,” Jack adds. He puts on his sunglasses and holds out his free hand to me. I look at it for a second, and then, carefully, tentatively slide my fingers through his.

“Ice-cream cones and hand-holding,” I say. “This is a very wholesome date. Is that for their benefit? It’s a clever idea,” I add quickly, so he won’t think I mind.

“Honestly, I wish I could say I’m that Machiavellian,” Jack replies after a moment. “I just wanted to get you an ice cream.”

That makes me smile.

“Right.” I draw back my shoulders. “You ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

When we go back outside, it seems like the paparazzi have been spawning, and we make a truly ridiculous picture as we walk down the pavement, eating our ice creams, holding hands and pretending we don’t notice the horde of screaming people dogging our steps.

Thankfully, we’re both exceptional actors.

We wander aimlessly, under a brilliant blue sky. The road is full of little shops, and occasionally we stop and pretend to look in the windows. There are palm trees lining the street, and a gentle breeze takes the worst of the bite out of the blazing sun. All in all, it’s a perfect day, and I suppose that we look perfect too.

We didn’t coordinate on purpose but even our outfits match: Jack’s white T-shirt and worn Levi’s fit him like a dream; he’s left his face unshaven again, and with the tousled hair and sunglasses he looks alarmingly handsome.

He tugs my hand, pulling me into the doorway of another shop, and holds his ice cream out toward me. I’ve already demolished mine, but he’s taken his time, there’s a little left at the bottom of the cone. “Before I finish this off, I think you should try it, given all the hard time you’ve given me over my flavor choices.”

I roll my eyes, but take a bite. Sugar explodes over my tongue, and I experience a little thrill about putting my mouth where his mouth has been, which might be a new low.

“Well?” he asks, polishing off the last bit.

“I think I need to book a visit to my dentist.”

He reaches out, and his thumb brushes the corner of my lips. “You have a little, just here,” he says, his voice rough, and then, slowly, he lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.