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real
    life. He had light brown hair, cut short, and eyes that looked green-
    ish, but that might have just been because he was wearing a pale
    green T-shirt. He had dark eyelashes and eyebrows and even
    though it was the beginning of the summer, he was already tan.
    It was hard to tell because I was sitting, but it looked like he was
    a few inches taller than me, which meant he was pretty tall.
    “Is this seat taken?” he asked, and I noticed that his voice was
    nice, deep but not scary Batman- deep.
    “Nope,” I said, hoping he hadn’t noticed me staring. “Just let
    me make some room for you.” I stood up and shifted my bag over
    on the luggage rack.
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said, standing behind me and push-
    ing his bag into place. “I’m—”
    Just then, the train stopped suddenly. I was thrown off bal-
    -1—
    ance, and had managed to steady myself when the train sped up
    0—
    again. I fell back— and landed right on the lap of the guy.
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    “Oh my god.” I felt my face get hot as I tried to understand
    what was happening. Somehow, I was sprawled across this guy’s
    lap . “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
    “No, it’s fi ne,” he said, though I could see he was turning red
    too. I tried to push myself off him, but just as I did, he half- stood,
    and my hand landed on his thigh. His upper thigh.
    “ Oh my god.” I half- stumbled, half- fell back on the middle seat
    and then scooted myself over to the window. I wanted to make it
    clear that I wasn’t some kind of weird train harasser who used
    sudden stops to touch the legs of random cute guys. “I’m so sorry
    about that. I’m so so sorry.”
    “It’s fi ne,” he said, but I could see that he was still blushing.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Yes,” I said. “I just . . . fell harder than I was expecting to.”
    He gave me a don’t-worry- about- it smile, and I realized that
    there was something about him that seemed familiar. I couldn’t
    quite place him, but fi gured that maybe he was one of my friends’
    Friendverse friends, someone I’d seen tagged enough in their posts
    that I recognized him, even though we’d never actually met. I picked
    up my latte— it had been resting on the tiny ledge by the window,
    and had not, miraculously, spilled— and took a deep restorative
    sip.
    “Great name,” the guy said, nodding at my cup, and I realized
    he was reading the Sophie that was written there.
    “Thanks,” I said. “But it’s not—”
    “Tickets!” the conductor yelled as he made his way down the
    aisle. The guy then had to explain he’d already given his ticket,
    —-1
    that he had been sitting across the aisle, then moved, which the
    —0
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    conductor seemed to think was some massive train transgres-
    sion, but he fi nally left without making the guy pay again.
    “Sorry about that,” the guy said when the conductor had de-
    parted. “I’m Josh, by the way.”
    “Hi,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.” I ran my hand across my
    new bangs and was suddenly grateful to Sophie for dragging me
    to the salon. Not that I was interested in this guy, but it was just
    nice to know that my hair currently looked better than it ever
    normally did.
    “You heading to the Hamptons?” he asked.
    “I am,” I said. I was about to tell Josh we would be in East
    Hampton when I realized that Bruce might have moved in the
    last fi ve years. He’d certainly gone through at least three wives.
    “But I’m not exactly sure where.”
    Josh smiled. “Same here,” he said. “My sister is already up there,
    but the house is new— I have no idea what neighborhood it’s in.”
    He stowed his iPod in the side mesh pocket of his backpack, like
    he wanted to keep talking, despite the fact I had already proven
    myself to be very