"No," I said. "I was . . . Jesus." For a moment I breathed. "It's a longer story than we have time for today. But . . . theater nights are not good for me, Everly Anne. I go to that cafe, but it's not always easy. Sometimes I go out of obligation. Sometimes out of need."

"Need for what?" she asked.

"Need to feel my mother close. I told you, it's a long story. But when you were there, on that night, and that asshole was putting his hands on you, I just saw this girl I cared for, about to be hurt, and this anger ... this anger that I have inside of myself about the shit that happened to my mother . . . it needed to go somewhere. It was a fucked up night. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

She sat quietly for a moment. "So . . . you were . . . ashamed?"

"I just don't like anger. I don't like what I know I could turn into if I don't keep myself in check. And yeah, I didn't like being angry around you. You seeing that part of me. Or the ten people from class."

"Anger and caring is not a weakness, Callum Andrew." She looked up at me. "It's actually what I like most about you. There's a soul behind those dark eyes."

"Yeah well . . . just don't tell anyone, all right?"

Everly leaned in, a small smile on her face. "You know you have used the word "just" in the last three sentences, right?"

I leaned in so that our faces were only a breath apart. "And now, I'm just going to kiss your cheek, as if it were meaningless, as if were innocent, as if it were just a part of my day." I pressed my mouth to her soft, warm cheek. In her ear I whispered, "Because in our very inconvenient reality, I'd love nothing more than to kiss your mouth."

She held my gaze after I pulled away. "Can't be going around disrupting inconvenient realities, now can we?"

I took hold of her hand again. "Certainly not before we wander around a bit clueless together."

Let a Little Water I waited for her to exit class, one day.

"Are you afraid of water?" I asked.

She didn't think so.

Under the glow and warmth of the late afternoon sun, we rowed a small boat through Central Park, ducking beneath wispy Weeping Willows, stealing glances under bridges. She shined so radiant, eyes so innocent, so wondrous, like everything was new.

For a while I quit rowing and simply let us float. She quizzed me from my school books, and I would only answer with, "Your dresses have been getting shorter."

I stole glimpses of her as we walked hand-in-hand, under the canopy of Elm trees in The Mall; both of us a little shy, and blissfully clueless.

Trapped under a globe of empty, echo-echo concrete walls of the Naumburg Bandshell, I swung her around as we danced to birds singing in the trees.

We fed goats at the petting zoo and she never once complained about the smell, only asked me for more quarters every time her hand ran out of feed, and I got her more, more, more, sorry that's all I have, more quarters.

"I never had a pet," she laughed. "Sorry." As she wiped her hands clean she glanced shyly at me.

"Why not?" I took her hand as we began to walk.

"My father didn't think it was smart." She paused and then said, "I'm sorry, that's all I can really tell you."

I nodded. "What kind of pet would you want if you could have one?"

"A pig. Like those little tea-cup pigs."

I laughed. "Oh . . . kay. Not what I would have guessed."

"Expected me to say a cat? Honestly?"

"More like one of those prissy little dogs you could dress up in clothes and carry everywhere."

"I'm both bothered and offended, Callum Andrew."

I smiled at her, and that time, I could not look away.

"Stop," she said, smiling herself. "You have that look again."

"Well, you have that beautiful thing again." I forced my eyes to focus on the trees. "So, no pets. What about boyfriends? Ever had one of those?"

"Have you met Timothy Brighton?"

"I suppose I'm trying to figure out why it's all right for you to walk home with me. Why this is all right?"

"That would make two of us, Callum." She sighed. "But I'd guess your performance in class must have him intrigued."