He smelled like laundry detergent and spearmint gum. The fluorescent lights of Doose's buzzed overhead, casting everything in that cheap supermarket glow.

You followed him past the canned vegetables, past the cereal aisle, until he stopped in front of the big glass cooler. The bottles inside were sweating, fogging up the door.

He held both fists behind his back, rocking on his heels. That grin was still there—the one that made your stomach do little flips.

He let the sentence hang, raising an eyebrow.