A million snide remarks half formed in my head. "Shouldn't you be at a Future Frat Boys of America meeting learning to play beer pong or something?"

I didn't really say that. I thought about saying it four hours later when I played the conversation back in one of my memory loops. It would have been so perfect if I'd cut his arrogance with a witty retort, but instead I mumbled, "Oh, Blake, are you here with Dakota?"

He raised an eyebrow, lips bent in their disarming, crooked grin. He looked... amused.

"What? What did I say?" I asked.

"Dakota hates this place. No offence. I mean, she hated Dornzeria and she'd probably hate this new version too. Too many carbs."

"We have gluten-free crust."

"Still carbs. Lots of them. Believe me, I've heard the rundown from her a gazillion times. Anyways, I wouldn't be here either, again no offense. But Shelby really wanted to come." As if on cue, his little sister and their parents walked inside.

Shelby was a tinier, spritelier version of her brother, with that same thick black hair, in her case bobbed at the shoulder, and a grin that reminded me of both Jack and Blake. She bounced right over to us and stood poised and statuesque next to her brother. "Are you Mazie?"

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. I glanced at Blake, who's grin took on a sheepish quality, and then back at his sister.

"I'm surprised you know my name."

"Of course, I do." Her voice was melodic, like she spent her days singing along to Disney musicals. "Blake told me about you."

"Did he now?"

I willed my face to stay its normal color and avoided looking back in Blake's direction. Blake's father walked up. "Do you have a table for four available?"

We had a waiting list, but only for groups of two. I led them to a four top our busser had just cleared, and to Shelby's utter delight, it was one of our fancy inlaid maze tables. She squealed as I showed her how the magnetic pens worked to move the colored balls through the twisting corridors under the table's plexiglass surface. "I was kind of worried your restaurant would suck compared to Dornzeria but this is really cool!"

"Better hold off your five-star review until you've tried the food," I said before walking away.

I was so busy helping bus tables and keep our growing waiting list in order that I only had time to obsess over what I was going to say to Blake and when I was going to say it about three quarters of my time, which was down from my ninety percent average.

Blake caught me when I was in a non-obsessive mode, showing a six-year-old one of the maze books we kept on a shelf under the front windows. He tapped me on the shoulder and elicited the second jump out of my skin moment of the day.

"You're very jumpy."

"You're very startling."

I walked away from the table of customers back to the hostess station. Blake followed.

"Does your family need something, Blake?"

He scratched his head. "Maybe. I can't remember. Oh yeah, napkins. We need more napkins. I can't keep anything straight lately."

I pointed to a stack of napkins. "Take what you need."

The jug band started up just then and Blake went back to his booth. I cursed myself, thinking I'd missed the opportunity to say what I wanted to. Using my typical procrastination tactics, I began talking myself into reasons why it would be better if I waited until I saw him at school on Monday.

My mother wandered over, her apron covered with enough pizza sauce to make it look like she'd just finished stabbing someone. "Mazie, you've been out here a long time. Take a break, hon." She pointed to the counter where a couple had just left a pair of stools unoccupied. "Have an Italian soda. Listen to the band. They're good, right?"

I nodded. Their faux hipster vibe wasn't exactly out of place in a town that made it a mission to have faux everything. "I could use a pick-me up, to be honest."

"Have the bruschetta then, too! It's amazing!" my mother called as I maneuvered through Mazzeria's maze of tables to the counter, which overlooked the open kitchen, a steaming cauldron of stainless steel and marble pizza peels. One of the new waitresses brought me a raspberry and cream soda and I sat there sipping away, texting Chelsea about the opening.

Dead tired. But must admit, parents didn't totally fail. People like it!

"I'm about to give you another heart attack."

"Jesus," my hand flew up to my heart and I nearly dropped my phone. "How do you keep doing that? If your family needs something else, you'll have to ask your waitress or my mom. I'm on break."

"I just came over to say hi." He sat down on the stool next to me and swiveled part way around until he was facing me. "Hi."

"Um... hi back?" From the way his cheeks dimpled, I realized I'd been unsuccessful at controlling my blush. "Is there a reason you want to talk to me, Blake?"

The playfulness fell away. "I've been feeling... strange lately. I mean, I know technically I'm not supposed to talk to you because you're not a Popular or whatever."

"You realize that's a dumb rule, don't you?"

"Yeah, but rules are rules. I got to be King Popular because I knew how to follow them. But, like, for a few weeks now... I've been so forgetful. I can't keep track of what's a rule and what's not a rule. I think I'm supposed to be mean to you. I'm mean to a lot of people."

Somehow, I'd managed to become a priest hearing a confessional. I shifted on my stool and took another sip of my soda. "I'll probably have to start working again soon."

"Why do I feel like I know you already? Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"I haven't even been living in Dorn for a month yet." My heart beat fast.

"Yeah... I know. I... I just haven't been myself." He turned back to the counter and rested his elbows onto it.

"Or you haven't been feeling fully yourself? Like, not quite... whole?"

His eyes shot back in my direction. "Something like that."

This gave me a lot to think about, but I decided not to press it any further. There wasn't much more I could say without revealing Jack, and I wasn't sure that was a good idea at this point. I was, however, feeling just emboldened enough to pursue my other angle.

"So, I was wondering... I'm interested in maybe trying out some dance classes. Would your sister recommend the studio she attends?

"Little Dancers, Big Dreams? Oh sure. She loves that place. It's in Silverdale."

"That's not too far, right?"

He shook his head.

"I'm interested in tap dance. Please tell me they have that there." I was feeling impressed with myself by this point. First, I'd gotten her dance school correct, second, I was pretty sure I'd nailed this fake enthusiasm thing.

Blake started to laugh. My smile began to falter. Maybe I'd sounded too enthusiastic. Maybe I reminded him of his twelve-year-old sister.

"What, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing... it's just that, tap is Shelby's specialty." He leaned in so close, I could see the course hairs on his chin. His voice lowered to a whisper. "If you tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, I swear you'll get the full brunt of Asshole Blake again."

"You don't have to tell me anything!"

But he did tell me. He seemed unable to help himself even though I could see the battle waging inside of him through his swirling brown and honey eyes. "Shelby loves tap so much, I let her teach me how to do it."

It was all I could do not to gasp.

He held out his hand, smallest finger stretched out in a hook shape. "Now pinky swear you won't tell anyone."

I would like to report that the pinky swear incident was the strangest of Blake's behavior, but it was followed up with something even less expected.

"I've decided to break up with Dakota."

I was slurping the remaining contents of my soda while he said that, so I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"We're just not right for each other, you know?"

"But you're the King and Queen of the Populars. Isn't it a given that you date?"

Blake swiveled all the way around on his stool. "Nope. Last year, Tommy was dating that year's Senior Leisure Queen, Jenna. Until my girlfriend came along and... anyways. That ended badly. And the year before that, the Junior Popular King was gay, so... We might have lots of rules but having to date each other isn't one of them."

He came to a stop facing forward again so we were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Here I was, seated next to this boy who was Jack but wasn't Jack. Only this one, I could reach out and touch if I wanted to. Put my hand on his, lean into his shoulder. Pinky swear. I slumped over my empty drink, feeling miserable and irrationally disloyal.

"Why are you even telling me this? I don't really know you and I don't care if you're dating Dakota or not."

That sounded mean, but his willingness to divulge personal details was starting to give me an impression of him I didn't want to have. I'd gotten the information I needed from him. It was exactly what I needed so I'd be able to report back to Jack further proof of his connection to Blake. One of our leads had panned out and that was enough for one night.

He put his hands up defensively. "Jesus, I just thought you were someone I could talk to. Guess I was wrong." He hopped off the stool and retreated to his family's booth.

I poked at the ice in my glass with my straw. "Yep, you were definitely wrong."