"What're you doing this Friday?"

A teenage Isabella shrugged, sipping noisily at her milkshake. She observed her own feet as she swung them back and forth, just barely skimming the pavement beneath the outdoor table on which she sat.

"You wanna hang out?" Phineas asked, leaning back on the palm of his hands.

"What, to like study?" Isabella asks, lazily lifting her cup to her lips.

Phineas closed his eyes and shook his head nonchalantly.

"No," he corrected, "like a date."

Isabella choked on her straw.