Helene Dunbar

This sums up the difference between me and James. I would have assumed that a cookie with no fortune meant I was going to be hit by a truck.

But then I couldn’t stop noticing him, couldn’t look away from his bright white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, or his gray striped suspenders. Couldn’t stop smiling at the girl who was twirling around in front of him, singing Blondie’s “Call Me” woefully out of tune.