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dear,” the waitress says looking distressed. “I’ll be right back with that,” she says and hurries away.
    I grab a crispy piece of bacon with my fingers and I’m chewing away before Henry has a chance to lift up his fork and knife. “Where are your manners, Miss Morrison?” he asks mockingly.
    “I’m famished, Mr. Hart,” I reply. “Head out to your big estate if you want all that proper manners stuff,” I say sassily.
    It’s true that I’m starving, but I also want to eat quickly so I can read Henry the draft of my message to Professor Sparling. I’ve started to worry that he’s going to think I’m too intimidated to write back.
    The waitress finally brings our juice and I guzzle mine in five big gulps.
    “Sheesh,” Henry says. “I have to make sure you eat more often.”
    I ravenously finish everything on my plate. Henry cleans his plate, too. As soon as the waitress clears our dishes, I reach into the pocket of my parka for my phone, pull up my email, and prepare myself to read to Henry. Suddenly, after all my rush to share with Henry, I’m a bit self-conscious. But it’s Henry, I remind myself. This kind of thing is right up his alley.
    “Ready to hear?” I ask.
    Henry raises his eyebrows and says, “Go for it, sweetheart.”
    I take a deep breath and exhale loudly. I read the first two lines without any problem, but then I pause. I start to blush. I can feel the heat in my cheeks as I get to the words “crotchless black panties,” and I can’t go on reading. I hand my phone to Henry and put my forehead down on the table. Henry grabs it and reads. “Syd, this is hot. Don’t feel bad.”
    “I don’t feel bad. I’m just really embarrassed. “
    The waitress comes by to ask if we need anything else.
    “Toothpicks,” Henry says. He loves to chew on toothpicks. Talk about no manners! He’s grinning at me now and I think it’s the biggest smile I’ve seen on his face. “I knew you had a sexy past back in high school, but I had no idea you were such an animal,” he says.
    “Grrrrr,” I say, making my best attempt at a growl.
    “Do you really think there’s a straight guy on this planet who wouldn’t go crazy from a message like this?”
    “I’m worried it’s too self-centered. It’s all about how he makes me feel.”
    “The fact that he’s turning you on will turn him on even more,” Henry reassures me.
    “I hope you’re right,” I say. “I hope he’s not cracking up at me, or worse … He could delete my email without reading it like it’s one of those ‘make your penis grow’ spam messages.”
    “Trust me,” Henry says, “your message is all he needs to make his penis grow.”
    “Very funny,” I retort.
    Henry says he has a great idea. We don’t have classes, and neither of us has any plans all day. “Let’s go shopping,” he says. “I want to see you in the five inch heels you’re imagining.”
    “Yeah, right,” I say.
    “I’m serious,” Henry says. “Send that email and let’s get out of here.”
    I think my blood pressure skyrockets as my finger approaches the screen on my phone. Sending a message like the one I’ve composed could change my life. This could be the beginning of something very big. I count out loud: one, two, three. Then I hit ‘send’ and immediately close my eyes, squeezing them tightly shut.
    “Deep breath, Syd,” Henry says. “It’s all good.”
    As we get up to leave, Henry waves to the waitress and calls out “ciao.”
    Henry and his ciaos. He picked up the word on his family trip to Italy last year. Ever since he’s been saying ciao so often it’s like an uncontrollable tic. He must be the only person in the state of Michigan saying ciao . People around here might say “later” instead of bye. Adios might possibly pass as cool. But ciao ? If Henry weren’t so well respected in Addison, he’d be a laughing stock.
    Henry opens the door for me on the way out of Kuki’s. “I’ve got to run a few errands,” he