““Oh,for God's sake," I scolded myself, channeling Frankie. "It's just a French session.It's just a French session with a cute guy.It's just a French session with a cute guy who no longer has a girlfriend, who drunk e-mailed me about my name, and who makes me feel like I've swallowed a caterpillar." I thought maybe I should sit down. The green hood of Alex's car nosed into view at 5:09. I flung myself out of the room, down the stairs, and then had to lean against the sofa for a second to compose myself. Then I stood right behind the door, counting a slow ten after he knocked before opening it. Wouldn't want to look eager, now, would I? "Hi," he said. "Hi." What else could I say? It had turned seriously cold over the break. He was wearing a big black peacoat with Russian symbols on the buttons. I tried to remember if I'd ever known the Russian word for "hi." I didn't think so. He waited patiently for a minute, then asked, "Okay if I come in?" I flushed and stepped back.””
