Everly looked back to her coffee cup. "Do you have a thing for her . . . and silicone?"

I watched her hair, the way it roped along her shoulder and down her neck. She still didn't look up and I craved to write this Eureka moment down too, but then nervousness crept back inside of me, because this revelation (unlike "iced" coffee) meant more existed between us than class and a differential . . . and it wasn't one-sided. She wanted to know if other girls held my interest, what kind of girls I liked, and if I had a girlfriend. And I wanted to stand on the table and shout, "NO! . . . NO THERE IS NO ONE I THINK OF MORE THAN YOU AND YOUR QUIETNESS!"

But instead I answered, "Your coffee is probably ice cold by now."

She talked to the cup because I had dodged the question, which, to a woman, actually meant I answered it. "That's kind of what I was going for."

I lead us as far away from the topic as possible. "They'll put that in a big cup with ice, otherwise known as an iced coffee, Miss I Don't Like Popular Things from This Generation."

Her high spirit fully plummeted. "I just wanted to cool it off a little. This is fine."

"You haven't even touched it," I noted. She glanced up at me and the same look she had in class shone. I was looking at her like an object. I tried to divert my attention elsewhere by picking up the Peter Pan book.

"Wendy is like the prodigal Amelia Vanguard of Neverland," I explained.

She nodded, but argued, "Except there aren't any med students to seduce in Neverland."

"Yeah," I said, "but she's got it bad for Peter strictly based on the fact he has his own magical play land, which in fairytales, is the equivalent to him having a doctorate. I mean, she's straight throwing him the P in front of her little brothers."

She laughed so freely, and it drew me right back to where I was running away from.

"I like your laugh," I admitted, "It's always honest. There's nothing worse than girl with a fake laugh."

Everly looked like she wanted to run away too. She went back to our inconsequential conversation. "She is a little ruthless. Not even Tink matters to her, and Tink matters to freaking everyone. I mean, Tinker Bell was given her own franchise for heaven's sake."

I traced the cover with my finger. "Who would you say you're most like?"

"Tiger Lily-at least I hope so."

"Why?" I looked up at her.

"She'd rather die honorably than betray her friends."

"You'd give up your life for someone else?"

"If it was someone I loved, sure." she said. "Wouldn't you?"

"For the right person. Absolutely."

"Who do you relate to the best?" she asked.

"These days? Definitely Smee."

Another heart-seizing round of laughter made me wish for time to fast forward and group study to begin. I must have been staring too intently despite my urge to flee, because she glanced away, smiling shyly. Like a glutton for punishment I admired her face to note the flush pink hue of her cheeks before we were interrupted by Noelle-and more importantly-warm brownies.

"Thought I'd drop you off a brownie straight from the oven to share," she announced.

"Thanks," I said, expecting her to leave just as quickly as she came, but she didn't move an inch. I glanced up and she just looked at Everly.

"Um . . ." I started, "this is Everly. Everly, this is my sister Noelle."

"Hi," Everly said, eyes down, head down.

Noelle looked at me with her eyes narrowed, as if something made zero sense. I agreed with that idea, so I just squinted back at her.

"I've never seen you two hang out before," she finally said. "Do you and Everly go to school together or something?"

"Or something, Noelle."

"Oh," she sounded surprised, "Well I was just a little confused because I could have sworn I saw you messaging Amelia on Face2Face this morning."

And then my rolling eyes understood. And I had to run back to the topic I wanted to avoid like the plague. "I'm not dating Amelia, and I'm not dating Everly, and you're my sister not my keeper, so don't bring me warm brownies unless you're honestly just trying to be nice. If you taint the sanctity of warm brownies I shall never forgive you."

I had little effect on her- after all, she had the upper hand-what with the warm brownies and all. "Amelia is my friend. That's all I'm saying, Callum."

And it was. Noelle walked away without another word.

"Why do women like making things awkward?" I wondered aloud.

"It was partially my fault."

"No," I argued, "It's mine actually. I typically don't sit around here chatting with girls when I should be studying."

"Oh."

"So she probably assumed you're someone special."

Everly looked up, and there was no way for me to expand that statement and argue it away. Silicone became an angel of mercy as my phone alerted me of an update. I laughed as I read Amelia's reply, and then showed the phone to Everly Anne.

Amelia_Sweetkisses_Vanguard: wouldn't be the first time these boobs were used to save a life.

Cecily was the only saving grace to compiling a group differential, mainly because she didn't refer to Everly as "Dr. Brighton's little experiment," but also because she didn't take any shit from that cretino Logan. They discussed predictable things about Everly like her clothes, scars, weight, and mannerisms. In the end, we stuck with an eating disorder as our diagnosis . . . or at least . . . they did.

"You know," Logan said, "I heard she was Dr. Brighton's kid." He stared at me as he reached for his mug. "You heard 'bout that, Trovatto?"

"Doesn't matter. Won't change the differential."

"Doesn't matter?" he echoed. "I'd have thought it would matter most to you."

I dismissed him with a shrug. "Everly could be Santa Clause's daughter for all I give a damn."

"I meant," he leaned closer, "you're trying to fuck her, right?"