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I walked around the icy grass, looking up at the second story, picking out where Becca’s window was. It was dark, like every other one in the house, but I had a feeling she was still awake. I thought about throwing rocks at her window like in the movies, but ultimately decided that was stupid. Why risk the chance of breaking the glass when we had technology? With my dented phone, I sent her a text: I’m outside. Can we talk? Go home, Andrew, she wrote back almost immediately. She was still awake, too. I’m over Tara, and I can prove it. Her face appeared in the window, gazing down at me. I gave her a small, hopeful smile, but she shook her head. With one last, lingering look, she closed the curtains. Give me another chance, please. One more date. She didn’t respond. I sent her one fin
- Writer
