"So, like, I heard you like me," Amber says nonchalantly, and Henry carefully puts his phone down.
"Um, okay, who said that?" And who do I have to kill?
"Like," and she wrinkles her nose, "half your band. But it's okay, because you're cute. Kind of."
Henry stares as Amber carefully avoids his eyes.
"Um, right. I'm cute, but I'm also older than you by, like, two years."
Amber waves a hand. "Yeah, but your image, magnae. Plus, like, wouldn't it be weird? I mean, you're in college and I'm still in high school."
Henry continues staring.
"You're the one who brought it up, so don't accuse me of pedophilia, Amber." He still gets the rush from saying her name.
"Uh huh, sure. Anyway, girls mature faster, so right now we're the same age mentally. And psychologically."
It takes a moment, but then Henry starts nodding slowly.
"Okay, but first, how do you feel about nachos?"
"Nachos? Love 'em, but I'm more of an extra-cheese-and-pepperoni-on-pizza type girl."
He makes a silent fist of victory.
"Okay Amber, I think we'll get along fine."
They share a brofist.