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abruptly stood. She kicked off her loafers, then passed through the living-room door and padded softly down the hall to his room — the first door on the left.
    There was nothing to do but follow her. Feeling his heart pounding almost audibly, Ed pushed himself toward his ex-girlfriend. Blood rushed to every part of his body. There was something so surreal about the moment — as if he were acting out the choreography of a well-rehearsed, recurring dream. Here he was, alone in his apartment with Heather, like so many times before. . . .
    She stopped a few feet inside his door. Her eyes flicked over the new elements of the room. Ed bit his lip. It had changed a lot since she’d last seen it. Instead of the former clutter (skateboards, clothing, sneakers), everything was spare, tidy, industrial. There was nothing on the floor to catch his wheels. His new desk was wide and had no chair since he just wheeled up to it. And his bed now had folded rails on each side. Over it was a hospital-type pulley system that he used to get himself onto the mattress.
    Heather glanced up at the contraption, then turned and smirked over her shoulder.
    Ed waited, his face a blank mask.
    â€œKinky,” she murmured.
    He exhaled, then found himself laughing. The girl was incredible. Truly incredible. Only Heather Gannis could pull off a line like that — sexy and offensive and teasing and intimate all at the same time.
    Heather perched on the side of his bed. She looked so beautiful, so sexy . . . but once more, unsure of herself. The contrast made her infinitely more desirable. He could feel himself tumbling . . . falling down into a place where he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. Unconsciously his hands tightened on his wheels.
    â€œEd,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.
    He nodded. “Yeah?” His voice was thick, clogged with emotion.
    â€œI miss you,” she blurted out. She lowered her head, staring down at her socks, hiding behind a curtain of hair.
    â€œOh,” he said. Nice. Another brilliant response. He was Casanova on wheels. He blushed for what must have been the eighth time in the last twenty seconds.
    â€œI can’t get what happened at the hotel out of my head,” she continued. “It’s just, like, I don’t know. Stuck there. And the weird thing about it is that . . . I don’t know — it makes me happy. I think about it all the time. You know?” She drew in a sharp, quivering breath.
    Ed gaped at her. His mind reeled. He couldn’t believe it. It was as if he’d scripted those very lines for her. She was answering all his prayers, and she didn’t even know it. Was it possible? Did she really want to go out with him again? Date him? Was she saying that she wanted to —
    â€œListen,” Heather croaked.
    His voice came out husky. “Yeah?”
    â€œCould you do me a favor?” She looked up at him again and brushed her long, shiny brown hair over her shoulder. “I know this is going to sound really lame, like a teen movie or something, but could you please kiss me?”
    Too bad he couldn’t laugh at her joke. Because now his heart felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest. Given his luck, it probably would. He’d probably drop dead of a heart attack in the next ten seconds. At least it had been pitch black in the storage room of the hotel. At least he hadn’t been able to see her. And she’d made the first move. But now it was up to him.
    Ed wasn’t even aware that his wheelchair was rolling slowly toward her. Heather’s face just seemed to drift closer and closer until it filled his entire field of vision. She hesitated a moment, looking at him — as if giving him time to reject her, to push her away. But he couldn’t. A fleeting thought of Gaia passed through his mind. It vanished the instant he smelled Heather’s delicate perfume. This isn’t good , that incessant, internal