"Long time no see." Leah's laugh stopped in mid-sentence. Ethan looked up so fast his knee clicked against the chair; the sound was small but he noticed it in the sudden quiet. "Vaughn?" Leah's voice went high and bright. "You—what are you doing here?" The tall boy in the doorway smiled without moving his eyes from Ethan. He wore a plain black jacket and that mole by his cheek that every rumor at school had picked apart a decade ago. "You're—Vaughn?" Ethan managed. The word came out thin. Vaughn took two steps forward and dropped the bag at his feet. He scanned the table like he was reading names on a program and then he said with that calm voice, "Ethan Armstrong." Leah clapped. "Oh my god. Ethan, this is Vaughn. Vaughn, Ethan. This is the blind date I told you about." Vaughn didn't sit. He stood perfectly still, an unhurried figure taking the room's attention. "I heard 'blind date' and had to see what kind of setup uses a single name like that," he said. His eyes cut to Ethan's leg and paused for the half-second Leah didn't miss. Ethan's jaw locked. The prosthetic at his left shone under the café lights. He'd always kept it neat; it wasn't flashy. Up close, it was the part of him most people asked about in whispers. Vaughn looked at it the way other people checked the score