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demands one of the cops. The beam from his flashlight slides up the roof and into the sky. “You kids painting the barn? That’s a misdemeanor. Violation of private property.”
    “Yo, Marone,” Lali says to one of the cops. “It’s me.”
    “Whoa,” Marone says. “Lali Kandesie. Hey, Jack. It’s Lali, Ed’s girl.”
    “You want to take a look around?” Jack asks cautiously, now that he’s being confronted by the boss’s daughter.
    “Nah. Looks okay to me,” says Marone.
    Jack snorts. “Okay, kids. Party’s over. We’re going to make sure you get to your cars and get home safely.”
    And they all leave.
    Sebastian and I lie frozen on the roof. I stare up at the stars, intensely aware of his body a few inches from mine. If this isn’t romance, I don’t know what is.
    Sebastian peers over the side. “I think they’re gone.”
    Suddenly, we look at each other and laugh. Sebastian’s laugh—I’ve never heard anything like it—is deep and throaty and slightly sweet, like ripe fruit. I imagine the taste of his mouth as being slightly fruity too, but also sharp, with a tang of nicotine. Boys’ mouths are never what you think they’re going to be anyway. Sometimes they’re stiff and sharp with teeth, or like soft little caves filled with down pillows.
    “Well, Carrie Bradshaw,” he says. “What’s your big plan now?”
    I hug my knees to my chest. “Don’t have one.”
    “You? Without a plan? That must be a first.”
    Really? Is that how he thinks of me? As some nerdly, uptight, efficient planner ? I’ve always thought of myself as the spontaneous type. “I don’t always have a plan.”
    “But you always seem to know where you’re going.”
    “I do?”
    “Sure. I can barely keep up with you.”
    What does that mean? Is this a dream? Am I actually having this conversation with Sebastian Kydd?
    “You could always try calling—”
    “I did. But your phone’s perennially busy. So tonight I was going to stop by your house, but then I saw you getting in Lali’s truck and followed you. I figured you were up to something interesting.”
    Is he saying he likes me?
    “You’re definitely a character,” he adds.
    A character? Is that good or bad? I mean, what kind of guy falls in love with a character ?
    “I guess I can be…sort of funny sometimes.”
    “You’re funny a lot. You’re very entertaining. It’s good. Most girls are boring.”
    “They are?”
    “Come on, Carrie. You’re a girl. You must know that.”
    “I think most girls are pretty interesting. I mean, they’re a lot more interesting than boys. Boy s are the ones who are boring.”
    “Am I boring?”
    “You? You’re not boring at all. I just meant—”
    “I know.” He moves a little closer. “Are you cold?”
    “I’m okay.”
    He takes off his jacket. As I put it on, he notices my hands. “Christ,” he says. “That must hurt.”
    “It does—a little.” The palms of my hands are stinging like hell where I’ve scraped the skin. “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me though. One time, I fell off the back of the Kandesies’ truck and broke my collarbone. I didn’t know it was broken until the next day. Lali made me go to the doctor.”
    “Lali’s your best friend, huh?”
    “Pretty much. I mean, she’s been my best friend since we were ten. Hey,” I ask. “Who’s your best friend?”
    “Don’t have one,” he says, staring out at the trees.
    “I guess that’s the way guys are,” I say musingly. I check my hands. “Do you think we’re ever going to get off this roof?”
    “Do you want to get off this roof?”
    “No.”
    “So don’t think about it. Someone will come and get us eventually. Maybe Lali, or your friend The Mouse. She’s cool.”
    “Yeah.” I nod. “She’s got her life all figured out. She’s applying early admission to Yale. And she’ll definitely get in.”
    “That must be nice,” he says with a hint of bitterness.
    “Are you worried about your