Zoe

Idiot! You're such an idiot!

Zoe whispered this to herself, about herself, as she rode down the black roads. She felt mad at Robert for what happened, but then almost instantly her anger at Robert seemed to splash against a wall in her mind and reverse direction, rushing straight towards herself.

Of course she should have known that he would fall for her from the start. She should have known as soon as she first met him and saw him hold out his hand and flick his wrist as he approached a pair of automatic sliding doors, pretending to open them like a Jedi.

Zoe did not think she was pretty—she thought she had a plain face and hair and she hated her huge legs. But she knew she was the right level of prettiness to attract boys like Robert—boys who were too awkward and scared to approach prettier or more popular girls. She couldn't blame him for falling in love with her, for mistaking her platonic affection for something more. He just picked the worst possible night to make a move.

Her legs were tired from peddling uphill, but they seemed to know where they were going.