It starts over sushi on our first date.
My hands shake for messy-haired boys with belly laughs and calloused guitar fingers, and you are a straitlaced aspiring masterpiece. I wish you would stitch instructions into your pocket because the way we sit, I don't know how to relate.
"Lot of ice," I giggle. That's so stupid. What a stupid thing to say.
"Uh, yeah." You study me like I'm a ruined experiment. "So, uh, are...