You're Emerson Ives! Are you really a virgin?

“I’m destined to die a virgin.” My own admission shocked me. Had those words left my mouth? I rubbed the smooth material of Noah’s jacket. Maybe I should have gone off with him. Not to get high, but to … well … not die a virgin.


***

“HOLY CROW, ECHO. You hibernate for a year and a half and wake up with a bang.” Lila finished changing out of her church clothes and into a tight pink sweater and blue jeans. “Luke tells you he still loves you—and by the way, told you so. And Noah stinking Hutchins tries to kiss you. And you complained you were going to die a virgin.”

[Emerson] had a gift of the picturesque phrase, but too often it is empty of meaning. He is a nimble skater who cuts elegant and complicated figures on a surface of frozen platitudes. Perhaps he would have been a better writer if he had not been quite so good a man.

That's okay, I'll just stay in my parents house and find another rich virginal fiancé to marry.

The thing is, you have to plan ahead. You pay on Monday in cash or money order and pick them up on Thursday. I know I'll be shopping for groceries every week, so I can plan for that. Christmastime is another easy way to do it.

We're always sitting around talking about what we miss about Chicago,