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last name.”
    “Boxwood ?” Charlie asks.
    “Sure, it works for Bon Jovi and Daughtry.”   I explain. 
    Charlie seems to be having trouble with the concept.  “Boxwood…I’ve always taken so much shit for that name.  You wouldn’t believe it.”
    “I know, I know, but think abo ut it.  It’s strong-sounding name.  It’s novel.  Separately, and together ‘box’ and ‘wood’ are dirty and funny.  I always thought the name fit you perfectly Charlie.”  I’m doing that excited fast talking thing that makes me crazy.  Get a grip, girl.
    “I’m dirty and funny ?” Charlie says in a mock hurt voice.  Jules is laughing her ass off.
    I am laughing, too. “You said it, not me, but yeah.”
    Charlie pulls Jules onto his lap and thrusts his pelvis, “Dirty.”
    Jules is still giggling, but enjoying the grinding.  In a naughty voi ce she growls at Charlie, “and funny.  Grrr.”
    There is more discussion.  The n ame is growing on everyone.  As they discuss benefits and disadvantages of the name, the guys are setting up to rehearse again, wandering back up to their mics and strapping on their instruments.  Drummer of the week, I think his name is Colin, smacks the drum heads a few times.  I suddenly get an idea.  I run up to Charlie’s mic and push him out of the way. 
    “Ladies and Gent leman, BOXWOOD!” echoes around the room.   Everyone laughs.  I’ve always wanted to do that.
    The newly named Boxwood is trying to get a bunch of songs together so they can play out.   They stick with danceable rock covers like—Welcome To The Jungle, American Idiot and Hard To Handle. I wouldn’t mind a few more pop songs, but Charlie has a voice for heavy driving tunes.  After another hour or so, they call it a night.  Jules and Charlie are going to give Jake and me a ride back to the dorms.  His guitar safely packed in the trunk of Charlie’s impeccably mantained Impala, he slides into the back seat right next to me, leg to leg, he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him and, putting his lips up next to my ear, says “So glad you came tonight.  What did you think?” 
    “You guys are a fun band.  You have got to nail down a drummer, though.  People are going to love you.”
    “You think? ”
    “Sure, I think you’d be great at a party,” I reiterate my approval.
    “Yeah, I’m thinking we might stick with Colin.  His drumming seems to fit us.  Charlie’s gonna talk to him at the next rehearsal.” 
    I nod.
    “Thanks for helping out with the band name.  Boxwood?  Never would have thought of it.  How did you?”  I give some sort of answer about all the ideas that pop in and out of my head all the time and when I say them out loud they either just sound right or wrong to me.  It’s not easy to explain the way my mind works to another person.  I think Jake is listening, but am a bit distracted because he is kissing my neck under my ear and inhaling deeply.  All he says is, “Uh huh.”
    It’s a short drive back to Weldon.  Once we get out of the car, Jake gets his guitar, slings the case over his shoulder, and takes my hand.  We climb the stairs to our rooms.  When we get to the second floor where Jake’s room is, he doesn’t stop. 
    I remind him, “This is you.”
    “I’ll walk you to your room, if that’s okay?”  Jake asks.
    “Yeah, it’s fine.”  I reply with a small smile.
    Charlie and Jules are in front of us.  Evidentl y Jules is sleeping over...with Charlie.  Once we hit the landing of five, they turn right to Charlie’s room and say goodbye to us over their shoulders.  My room is at the top of the landing.  I stop to fish my key out of my cross-body bag.  Jake has let go of my hand and has moved his hand to my shoulder.  Before I can open the door, he turns me to him and his other hand goes up to my other shoulder.  He slowly slides them up and down my arms and looks at me like he is going to say something.  Tentatively, he