Chapter 6: A Gift From a Friend

The coffee place on Birch Street had six booths and one barista, who did not care what anyone did in them.

I took the booth behind Sage's with a textbook open in front of me and my phone face down on the table.

The recorder was already running.

I had pulled my hair over my face and put on a pair of Sage's glasses, and I knew it was a very bad disguise.

Preston came in at two minutes past two.

He had changed his shirt and combed his hair, and he walked in with his head up.

"Sage," he said, sliding into the booth. "You came."

"I told you I would."

"You told me no twice."

"I changed my mind."

He leaned back and grinned at her.

I pressed my thumbnail into the cover of the book.

For the first ten minutes, he talked about himself.

He talked about lacrosse, and his father's boat, and a trip to Lisbon he had not taken yet but was definitely going to take.

Sage said "Wow" three times, and "Really?" twice, and each of them sounded a little more real.

I wrote the word "boat" in the margin of my notes, and then I crossed it out.

Preston ordered a second coffee, and then a third.

He asked Sage about her classes, and when she answered, I watched him look over her shoulder at the door.

He did not listen to one word she said.

At twenty minutes in, Sage tried her first question.

"So, why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Out of everyone on campus. You asked me twice. You posted an entire jacket on the internet." She tilted her head. "Why me?"

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