In order to be reasonably sure of being on time, Jane had to go straight to Manhattan from school. She wasn't thrilled, but there wasn't much she could do. She told herself it was a good thing. It would keep her humble, keep her from thinking of this as a social excursion.

Charlie dated super-models and actresses and singers. He, Charlie, was nineteen and sophisticated and gorgeous and a bazillionaire, while she, Jane, was a seventeen-year-old nothing from Deadmond, New Jersey.

Jane wound up arriving at Columbus Circle about three minutes late. She stood, out of breath, right in the circle, looking around. How in the world was he going to "meet" her here? It was full of people. There would be a riot. Jane looked around, trying to spot one of the most famous people in the world being incognito.

This was ridiculous. She switched her backpack to her other shoulder and began walking around the circle, feeling foolish. Why hadn't she at least texted him to confirm things? Or find out what disguise he'd be wearing?

A black SUV with tinted windows pulled up to the curb of the circle, and the window rolled down. As Jane stared at it, a hand came out. At least she thought it was a hand. It was a Powerpuff Girl hand puppet. Blossom, to be exact, pink bow and everything. She waved her hand at Jane in what could possibly have been a come hither motion.

Jane began to laugh as she walked to the car. Blossom disappeared back through the window, and the door swung open. Jane climbed in, first tossing her backpack into the back.

"Hi!" Charlie waved Blossom in Jane's face. He was wearing his hair down today, the black curls contrasting nicely with his plain, white T-shirt. The white of the shirt made his hazel eyes look impossibly deep and bright, too.

Whoa, Jane, rein it in, girl. He wasn't here to be her date or anything romantic like that. She had his very expensive sunglasses in her backpack, and that's why he was here. Period.

Charlie saw Jane's smile falter, and wondered what was going through her head. She'd been all lit up when she got in the car, her smile bright enough to rival the glitter rainbows she appeared to have painted on her black sneakers.

"I'm sorry, I just threw my backpack in the back seat," she began.

He shrugged at her, which looked kind of funny because he was still wearing the hand puppet.

"Your sunglasses are in there," she explained. "I'm going to have to, um, climb back to get them..."

"We can get them later," Charlie said breezily, and that's when Jane noticed that the car had pulled out into traffic.

"Oh," she said.

"What?" Charlie asked, concerned.

Now it was Jane's turn to shrug. "Nothing. I just didn't know we were, um, going anywhere. I thought you just wanted your glasses."

"I just figured that, since you're here, and I have some free time, we could, I dunno, just ride around the city a bit? Just, um, talk?" He looked at her questioningly.

"Really? I mean, okay," Jane said, nodding and smiling.

"How long?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, it doesn't have to be long," Jane said quickly. "Even five minutes would be fine--" she stopped when she saw his face.

"No, I meant how long do I get you for? Before you have to go back?" Charlie elaborated.

"Oh." Jane looked around the inside of the car, not sure of what to say. "Well, my parents don't usually get home from work until seven on Mondays, and I did all my homework already, though 'homework' is kind of a grandiose word for the mind-numbingly dull drivel they give us--what?"

"Nothing." He smiled at her. "You're funny, that's all."

"Really? I got voted 'most likely to die working in a lab' in my senior class superlatives," Jane said.

"What? That's not a real thing," Charlie said, turning to face her in the back seat. The car was now heading down Fifth Avenue, purring along in expensive near-silence.

The girl next to him colored prettily, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "It is too," she insisted. "It's my classmates' nice way of saying I'm boring, but that's okay, because hey, at least they thought to put my name down, right?"

At his look, she continued, "Camilla? The girl you were with at lunch? She got voted 'most likely to divorce a rock star'."

Charlie continued to just look at her. Her eyes were such a pale gray that at times they appeared almost translucent, and her blonde hair was so fine it looked like it should be on a baby. He realized he was staring at her and made himself look away, but as soon as she started talking he had to look back at her. Her skin looked so smooth, and because he was so used to the people around him wearing so much make-up, her face looked almost naked to him.

"Um, do I have something on my face?" she asked, trying to see herself in the reflection of the window.

"No, you're just, really, um, interesting," Charlie said, nodding.

"You're wearing a child superhero puppet on your hand but you're calling me interesting?" Jane returned.

As Charlie pulled the puppet off his arm, Jane realized that he had a Bubbles puppet as well as a Buttercup puppet on the floor at his feet.

"Why did you buy all three?" she asked curiously.

"I didn't know which one was Blossom," he admitted. "So I just told Tony to get all three, and I figured I'd sort it out in the car."

"Who's Tony?"

Charlie gestured toward the front seat. "He's security, though today he's doing double duty as my driver as well."

"Hi, Tony," Jane called.

Tony waved back at her.

"He can hear everything we say?" Jane asked quietly.

"Yeah, but if it bothers you--here--" and Charlie pushed a button, closing the privacy window between the front and back seats.

"Neat!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. This gesture made Charlie smile, made him want to do something else that she'd consider "neat", just so he could watch her do it again.

She turned to look at him, and the motion of her neck made some of her thin hair slip over her shoulder to hang down over her sweatshirt, which was from Bernie Sanders' most recent presidential campaign.

"Charlie? Why do you keep looking at me?" she finally asked, taking a deep breath.

Charlie's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, does it bother you? It must bother you or you wouldn't have said anything.

"Um, I'm looking at you because we're talking, and normally that's what people do when they're carrying on a conversation," he replied. "But if you prefer, I could look out the window while we talk?" He put action to the word and continued. "Is this better?"

Jane laughed. "No, I'm sorry, it's just, the dynamic is backwards, isn't it? I mean, you're the famous one, the handsome one--" she stopped as she heard her own words, putting her face in her palm.

Oh shit.

He smiled at her. "Well, thanks for that, I guess. I kind of figured after the way we spoke at lunch that you didn't like me at all, you know?"

Jane looked at him, drawing her eyebrows together. "What are you talking about? We didn't argue or anything. It was at most simple verbal jousting--"

"Verbal jousting?" he repeated. "Where did you learn to speak, Victorian England?"

"That's a legitimate phrase," Jane defended herself, "and the meaning was perfectly clear, which is the goal of any kind of verbal communication, right?" She looked at him, quietly indignant.

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed. The car had driven across the southern tip of the island, through the financial district, and was now heading up along Battery Park, somewhere near the party where Charlie'd gotten the blow job from Marlene-Darlene, he thought.

"Anyway, back to whatever we were talking about, like, three topics ago," Charlie said in an amused voice. "People don't disagree with me, ever, about anything, so when you did, at lunch, even though it was, as you say, 'simple verbal jousting', it made me sit up and take notice.

"And," he continued, touching her knee for emphasis, "last night, when we were texting? You said good night first, indicating that you wanted to stop, which also never, ever happens to me."

"Really?" she asked, fascinated. "It must feel really good to be you, then, huh?" She blinked at him. "But maybe also, um isolating? Like you never know how people really feel about you, or what they're really thinking."

Wow.

It had honestly never occurred to Jane how lonely it was to be as famous as Charlie was, and it only took a quick look at his handsome face to see that she was right.

She put her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I never thought about how bleak it might be."

"Whoa, suddenly very serious and heavy vibes in this car," he said with a grin, patting her arm. "Let's get some hot dogs or something, what do you say? I'll pay if you'll hop out and get them?"

"Okay." Jane beamed at him. "I love hot dogs, especially the inexpensive ones from the vendors. That's what you're talking about, right? We're not going to some weird, fancy hot dog place?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Absolutely not," he said decisively. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to her.

"How many did you want me to get?" she asked as she took the money.

"Jane, please, I remember how you ate at the River Cafe," he said, laughing. As she tried to hit him, he added, laughing, "No, no stop! It's the smallest bill I have!" He leaned away from her, fixing his shirt, which had rucked up, showing a very well-toned stomach. "Jesus! I'm a millionaire, remember?"

So Jane got out of the car on a busy corner in Midtown (they'd come back around) and bought fifty dollars worth of hot dogs and water, which she and Charlie proceeded to demolish in the black SUV.

"Mm, these are so good," Jane said with her mouth full.

She smiled at Charlie, who smiled back. He was delighted with her in every way, and he was having a hard time hiding that. He knew, though, that he had to clamp down on whatever he was feeling, hard.

This girl-child in front of him, with the wispy hair and clear, gray eyes, was a baby in every sense of the word but the literal. He was as old as the hills compared to her.

Jane looked surreptitiously at Charlie as he took a long drink of water, throat working, and felt a swooping sensation in her tummy, just from watching him swallow.

Stop, Jane. Every girl in the world felt like that when looking at him. He could have anyone.

Why would he want her?