"I like stories," Paul says, the inflection of like shaded into love, a different kind of gleaming eagerness entering his eyes. With flirtation discarded, he's only an earnest fellow teenager, veering into the subject of a mutual interest.

"If I ever told one, I'd hope people would feel that way about mine," he adds, sipping his drink, and then a thought strikes him. He practically glitters with it, smile tilting excited and conspiratorial.

"Have you ever thought of writing stories yourself?"