July, 1990 

She looked down at the book, then concentrated on her fingers, trying to position them just right on the strings.

A few seconds later her fingertips were burning from pressing down so hard, but when she strummed, she was rewarded with a rich chord that resonated from the wooden chamber.

“Cool.”

Her grin grew wider as she pieced together her work from the last hour, shifting her fingers from one position to the next while she strummed, stringing together the combination of chords in the melody as it was written in the book beside her.

She hummed along quietly as she played it again, her hair falling into her eyes as she leaned over to see the strings she was pressing down, completely oblivious to the shadow moving toward her house.

“Hey, that’s awesome, Boof.”

Keeping her attention on the strings, she shook her head and laughed.  “You’re seriously gonna start calling me that?”

“Yeah.”  His tone was light, and she could hear his grin as he continued.  “Why not?  You love that movie.”

“The movie’s great, but the name . . . it’s kinda stupid, don’t you think?”

“Nope.  Besides, you could be Boof, so it works.”  He watched as she continued to strum, then plopped down on the steps next to her, smiling as he looked over the instrument in her lap.  “Where’d you get the guitar?”

“I found it in the attic.  It was Dad’s.”  She looked up, shaking back the brown hair around her face with a growl.  “I need a haircut.”

“Or a rubber band.  Turn your head.”  His hands came to the back of her head when she obeyed, his fingers combing her hair into a ponytail before securing it with the band from his wrist.  “I didn’t know your dad played.”

“He didn’t.  He bought it and wanted to take lessons, but he never got around to it.”  The playful tug on her hair told her that he was done and she turned back to grin at him.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”  His eyes came to the redness of her fingertips and he winced before reaching out to pick up the book.  “How long have you been sitting out here?”

“A little over an hour.  Not too long.”  Pain shot through her index finger and she brought it up to put it in her mouth, hoping that the moisture would soothe the dry, cracked skin.

“It’s only been an hour and you’re already halfway through the beginner’s book?”  He arched an eyebrow at her as he turned the pages.

“Well, yeah.  Most of it is remembering the finger positions for the chords.  It’s not that hard until you start putting them together.”

“No kidding.”  The pages moved quickly as he flipped through them.  “Are you gonna take lessons?”

“I don’t think so.”  Her fingers strummed over the strings once again.

“No?”  His head jerked up at her tone.  “Why not?”

“Mom’s pretty tapped out by the piano lessons, Josh.  I can’t ask her to let me do anything else.”

“So drop the piano for a while.”

“I can’t really do that, either.  I begged for those lessons.  And I like to play . . .”

“I’m not saying to quit the piano, period.”  He tilted his head as he thought about it.  “You’re at an advanced level on the keys.  Maybe you could do some practicing on your own to keep that stuff fresh while you work on the guitar for right now.”  The sun reflected off the polished wood in her lap, making him squint.  “Just think how awesome it would be to learn to play on your dad’s guitar.”

She was silent for a few minutes, strumming quietly as she thought over what he’d said.  Finally, she looked back up at him.  “I think you’re right.  I love the keys and I can keep them up on my own for a few months.”  Her smile faded as she remembered.  “But the guitar lessons are more expensive than the piano lessons.  How do I get around that?”

He grinned at her.  “Easy.  Mom’s been after me to start taking lessons.  If you’ll teach me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Well, yeah.  I want to learn, anyway, so it’s not like I’m getting the short end of the stick here.”  His shoulder bumped against hers.  “Plus I’ll get to spend more time with the coolest girl I know.”

She laughed.  “You have no idea what kind of teacher I’ll be, Josh.  What if it doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work.  I’ve seen you in action.”  He saw her doubtful expression and sent her a wink.  “Come on, Jen.  You could teach me to play piano with your eyes closed.  You need to concentrate on the guitar for a while.”  He laughed.  “Besides, you’re the only one I know who has the patience to put up with me.”

“That’s true . . .”  Her sentence trailed off as she arched an eyebrow playfully.  “Okay.  Let’s talk to your mom first to see what she thinks, then we’ll talk with mine.”

“Great.  This is gonna work, Jen.  I promise.”

“Whatever you say.”  She strummed once more before looking up again.  “Hey . . . since when am I the coolest girl you know?  What happened to Amanda?”

“Eh, you know how it is.”  He shrugged flippantly before leaning back on his elbows to stare at the sky.  “She got over it and so did I.  We’re starting classes over at the high school soon, anyway . . . if it hadn’t ended now, it would’ve ended then.”

“I’m sorry.  I know you liked her.”

“I’m not.  Like I said, better now than later.”  He snickered.  “Besides, my ‘coolness’ factor dropped a few notches when I told her off last week.”

She put down the guitar and turned so that she could look directly at him.  “You told her off?  Why?”

His eyes slid closed as he relaxed.  “She . . . uh, she didn’t like that I hung around certain people.”

“Certain people?”  Her brow furrowed.  “Me?”

“Yeah.”  He sighed.  “She thought I spent too much time with you and not enough with her.”

“And she’s right.  You can’t expect . . .”

His eyes opened to see her uneasy expression.  “Don’t even think of saying it.  You’ve been my best friend since first grade and I’m not trading you in.  Not now or a year from now.”  When she still gave him a doubtful look, he shook his head.  “No girl, no matter who she is, is going to come between us.  Ever.  I promise.  Got it?”

“Josh, you can’t promise me . . .”

“I can and I will.”  His eyes locked with hers.  “I won’t let it happen, Jen.  Got it?”

“Y-yeah.  Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.”

They were silent for a few minutes before she finally spoke again.  “I wish you hadn’t . . .”

“Just let it go.”  He sighed.  “It’s over and done with.”

“Well, I’m still sorry you felt you had to do that.”  She gave him a small smile.  “But even you have to admit that things are gonna have to change sometime.  I mean . . . we’re growing up, Josh.  Starting high school.  It’s kind of obvious that we’ll both start to date.  And to tell you the truth, I can’t say that I would’ve acted any differently than Amanda if I was in her shoes.”

“That’s stupid.  Our friendship shouldn’t have to change just because of a girl . . . or a guy.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t.  But . . .”

“I really don’t think we need to talk about this right now.”  He shifted into a more comfortable position.  “We’re not even fourteen yet, Boof.  Let’s worry about this later, when it’s an issue.  Okay?”

“Okay, but we’ll have to talk it out sometime.”  Her eyes moved over him and she couldn’t help but wonder if they ever would talk about it.  “Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.  Just not right now.”

“Okay.”  She grinned as she stared across the front yard.  “Your ‘coolness’ factor dropped, huh?”

“You could say that.”  He smiled.  “I’m not tops on her list, anyway.”

“Well, if it helps . . . you’ll always be the coolest guy I know.”

Sitting up quickly, he hugged her, his grin lifting his voice as he threatened playfully.  “I’d better be.”

----------------------------------------

February, 1991

“I bet you couldn’t.”

“I bet I could.”

“No way.  You’d freeze up on the spot.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Put your money where your mouth is.”

“Fine.  How much?”

“Forty bucks says that you freeze under the pressure.”

“Fifty says that I make the cut.”

“Brave man, raising the stakes.  You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

“Great.  When are the auditions?”

“The fifteenth of next month.”

“I’ll clear my calendar.”

“Clear your calendar of what?  Hot date?”

“Shut up, Josh.”

*********************

“I can’t believe they picked you!”

“Kind of excited, aren’t you?”

“Not as excited as you should be.  This is great!”

“I have to move to Florida, Jen.  For part of the year, anyway.”

“I know.”  There was a momentary silence on the line.  “I’ll miss you.”

“You’d better.  This is all your fault, you know.”

“My fault?  How is this my fault?”

“You shouldn’t have tried to bruise my ego.”

“Ha.  What ego?”

“Ouch.  That hurt.”

“Poor baby.  You can’t tell me you aren’t excited about this.”

“Are you kidding?  I’m ecstatic!  I’m going to be on TV!”

“Right on!  I’ll make sure to tape every episode, so I can’t miss it.”

“Since when do you watch the Disney Channel?”

“Since now.  Who knows?  I might capture some valuable black mail material.”

“Very funny.  Hey, Boof?”

“What?”

“Pay up.”

A growl carried over the line right before she slammed the phone down and he couldn’t help but laugh.

----------------------------------------

May, 1991 

“Jennifer!  Thank God you’re here!”

Jen froze in her tracks halfway across the Chasez’ front hallway.  “Um . . . hi, Aunt Karen.  What’s up?”

“He’s packing.  That’s what’s up.”  The woman pointed to the stairs.  “Go up there and straighten him out.”

“You want me to straighten him out?”  A brown eyebrow arched sharply.  “What’d he do?”

“It’s not what he did, it’s what he’s doing.”  Karen took a deep breath.  “He’s throwing everything all over the place and I really don’t think he knows what he wants to take with him and what he can leave . . . I can’t take it anymore!”

“So he’s just being the Josh we all know and love, huh?”

“The boy is driving me insane!”

Jen fought back the smile that was twitching at her lips.  “He hasn’t taken Heather or Tyler hostage and tried to pack them, has he?  This isn’t a rescue mission?”

“You’re rescuing me.”  Karen pushed her toward the stairs gently.  “Just wait until you see his room.  He needs you up there.  I need you to go up there.  Please . . . fix this, Jennifer.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll see what I can do.”  Shaking her head, she ran up the stairs and down the hall until she was standing outside his bedroom.

At least, she thought it was his bedroom.  There were clothes, shoes, books, cassettes, videos and half empty suitcases covering every surface, leaving a small trail that led from the door to the closet and then to the bed.  The drawers in his dresser, desk and nightstand were all pulled open, some empty while others had their contents spilling over and onto the floor.  The items that had actually made it into the luggage weren’t in any order at all, just piled there as if he was waiting for someone to come behind him and make it work.

“Oh, my God . . .”  Her voice was soft with wonder as she looked around the room once again.  She couldn’t see him in the mess, but when a jacket flew from the closet onto the bed, she couldn’t help but smile as she stepped carefully into the room.  “I think you’re getting more on the floor than you’re getting packed, Josh.”

His head poked out of the closet and he gave her a quick grin.  “Hey!  When’d you get here?”

“About five minutes ago.”  Her eyes widened even further when she saw all the empty hangers still on the bar above his head.  “And I think I’m right on time.”

He’d already turned away, ducking back through the doorway to find . . . something.  “What?”

“Never mind.”  She just stood there for a few minutes, trying to figure out where to start first.  “Hey Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you think of any reason why your mom was ready to kiss my feet when I walked in the front door?”

“She’s been trying to help me get this finished since eight this morning.  She finally gave up about twenty minutes ago.”  His upper torso leaned out of his closet as he passed her a stack of jeans and shorts.  “Could you put these in the suitcase on the bed?  I think that should finish up that one.”

“Why do I have to be the one to help you with this?”  She set the stack down on top of the piles of clothing already in the case, her eyes widening when she saw how it overflowed.

“Because you know I’ll be your best friend forever if you do.”

“You’d better be my best friend forever even if I didn’t.”

“Okay, you’ve got me, but you know you want to help me.”  He dropped down on his knees and rummaged around in the floor of the closet for a few seconds.  “Where are my black shoes?”

“You mean the ones by your feet?”  She watched as he snatched up the sneakers and put them right next to the closet door, then turned back to the mess on his bed.  “You’ll be back for a visit in a few months, right?”

“Yeah.”  His voice was muffled by the wall.

“Then why are you getting so freakish about this?”

“I’m not getting freakish.”

“Yeah, okay.”  She looked around at the disaster area his room had become and had to laugh.  “You might not be, but your mom is going to hit the roof when she sees this room.”

“Trust me, she’s seen it.  That’s why she’s so worked up.”

“She’s worked up?  Your mom?”  Her voice was laced with mock disbelief.  “No way.”

“Just get that suitcase closed, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”  With a sigh, she maneuvered the clothes until they were packed as tightly as she could get them, but the zipper wouldn’t budge.  She climbed up and sat on top of the case, leaning over to try and work the zipper along the track, but it still refused to move.  “Good Lord, Josh.  Are you afraid you won’t be able to do laundry down there?”

“No, I just want to make sure that I have options.”  He walked out of the closet carrying four different pairs of shoes.  “You never know what’s going to come up.”

“So you’re just taking everything you own?”  She climbed off the bed and lifted the case open again, her eyes narrowing at the messy pile inside.

The shoes landed in a heap on the other side of the bed.  “I’m not taking everything.”

“Oh, that’s right.  I forgot that you were leaving the tuxedo you wore in your cousin’s wedding four years ago.”  Her sarcasm was thick as she dug through the fabrics in the case.  “What all do you have in here?”

“The stuff I think I’ll need.”  He watched her for a second.  “What are you doing?”

“ . . . eight, nine, ten . . . You’re taking ten sweatshirts?  Josh, it’s the middle of summer and you’re going to be in Florida.  You won’t need ten sweatshirts between tomorrow and when you come home for that long weekend in September.  Especially since they’ll be running you through their wardrobe people for whatever you wear on the show.”  She pulled out the stack of thick shirts and passed them over to him.  “I’d think that three or four would be plenty.  Pick out your favorites and set them right here.”

Taking the stack of shirts, he eyed her warily as she walked around the bed to where he’d piled some other stuff to go through and pushed it all off the comforter and onto the floor.  “Are you crazy?  What are you doing?”

“Forget about everything but your clothes for right now.  They’ll take the longest, but it’ll give you a better idea of what else you’ll have room to take with you, and it’ll go faster if you take it one suitcase at a time.”  She arched an eyebrow at him and pointed at the shirts he was still holding.  “Are you finished with those yet?”

Thirty minutes later, the suitcase was repacked tightly and neatly, and everything that he’d decided to leave behind had been either put back in the dresser or hung in the closet, clearing up much of the floor.  She smiled in satisfaction as the zipper moved around, securing the case easily.  “And we didn’t even have to sit on it.  See?  That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He looked doubtfully around the room.  “There’s still an awful lot that didn’t fit.”

“That’s what the other four cases are for.  Help me get this to the hall.”  Together, they pulled the case from the bed and lugged it out into the hallway.  “This one has most of your shirts and all of your jackets, shorts, pajamas, socks and underwear.  By the time we get finished, you’ll have enough there so that you won’t wear the same thing twice in two weeks and you’ll have some nicer stuff for if you go out.”

His arm tightened around her shoulders and he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before he turned and went back into the room, picking up a few sweaters to hang in the closet on his way through.  “You’re a lifesaver, Jen.”

She looked down at the case in the hallway, biting her lip when she felt a heavy weight settling around her heart at the evidence that he was really leaving.  This time tomorrow, he’d be on a plane heading for the land of Mickey Mouse and beaches . . . leaving her behind.  Her eyes moved over to the empty suitcase lying next to his bed, wishing that she could fold herself up into it and go with him.

Blinking back the sudden sting of tears, she took a deep breath and walked into the room, picking up the case she’d been looking at and putting it on the bed.

“Boof?  Are you okay?” 

Her head jerked up and she found him looking at her, his eyes narrowed in concern.  Clearing her throat quickly, she forced a smile and reached for the pairs of shoes lying next to her feet.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.  Let’s get this one finished and that should be it for your clothes.”

They worked quietly for a few minutes, the case filling up quickly.  “There’s a few pictures I want to take.  Let’s put them between some of the shirts so they won’t get broken.”  He moved to the dresser and picked up three frames before walking back to the bed, where he began passing the remaining clothing to her, watching as she arranged everything so that it would fit.  “I think that’s all for that one.”  He eyed the case critically.

“O-okay.”  She’d kept herself together as she situated first the shoes, then the belts, jeans and dress pants, but when he handed her three of his flannel button-down shirts . . . she paused to pick up the shirt on the top of the stack. 

Her fingers ran over the soft fabric of the blue and green checkered shirt . . . his favorite.  She was always forgetting a jacket and he’d always been quick to give her whatever extra shirt he had with him.  More often than not, it was this one.  It was oversized on him – huge on her – and comfortable, it smelled of him even when it had just been washed and it was always warm, as if he’d just taken it off.

The sobs built in her chest and she tore her eyes away from the material, forcing herself to look at something else . . . anything else.  Unfortunately, her gaze landed on the pictures he’d laid out for her to pack and she had to swallow hard, trying to force down the lump that had formed in her throat.

He’d picked out the portrait of his family, of course, but the other two frames were what made her want to cry.

The first was an older picture of the two of them on the playground of their elementary school.  They’d been sitting on the swings, in the exact same spot where they’d met, and while she couldn’t remember exactly what it was that he’d said, he’d put her in hysterics.  She was on the left side of the photo, her head tilted back as she laughed, while he sat on the swing next to her, smiling as he watched her.

The second was, again, of the two of them, this one from their eighth grade graduation.  They were standing together, his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist, their smiles happy as they posed for the picture next to the gym.  The ceremony itself had been long, boring and totally unnecessary, but she was glad that it had given them an opportunity to make a memory of another milestone in their lives.  That transition from grade school to high school had been an awkward thing to go through, but they’d worked it out.

Together.

For as long as she could remember, it’d been that way.  They’d worked together, been a team . . . attached at the hip, as her mother would say.  They’d watched each other’s back, stood up for each other . . . and, while they each had other friends that they talked and hung out with, there wasn’t another person on the planet that she trusted as much as she trusted him.  She knew that she could go to him about anything and that he’d not only keep it to himself, but he would understand what she was saying.

Her mother had always told her that they’d probably be split up after they graduated high school, had warned that they needed to branch out and make new friends, so they’d be able to do it when they were separated at different universities.  As immature as it may be, she’d always just assumed that they’d go to the same college.  They’d stuck by each other this far, why couldn’t they stick together then?

But now . . . here she was, helping him get packed to move nearly a thousand miles away.

They weren’t even fifteen yet, let alone old enough for college, and he was already leaving her.  It didn’t matter that he’d be coming back fairly often, hopping a plane whenever the show took a break for a few days or even the weeks between seasons, when the network would air reruns . . . her mind could accept that, but her heart felt as though it were being torn in half, as if she were packing up a part of herself and sending it away.

Her eyes came back to the shirt in her hands and she felt the tears welling up again.

Clearing her throat, she finally found her voice.  “Josh?”

“Yeah?”

His voice was closer than she’d expected and she turned to find him next to her, his eyes moving up from the photos on the comforter to meet hers.  “I . . . I know it’s your favorite . . . and it’s okay if you say no . . .”  She swallowed hard as the moisture in her eyes came closer to spilling over.  “Can I keep this?”

The first tear ran down her cheek and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.  “It’s yours.  Anything you want, just name it and it’s yours.”  He could feel her shaky breathing and wasn’t surprised when the shirt was dropped to the ground, her arms going around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder.

There was a sound in the doorway and he looked up to find his mother standing there, concern etched across her features.  “Is she okay?” was mouthed silently.

He nodded as he felt his own tears threatening, watching her walk back down the hall before closing his eyes and leaning down until his forehead rested against the girl’s trembling shoulder.  “It’ll be all right, Jenny.  I promise.”  His voice was weak, the first of his tears falling to soak into her shirt.

“You’re leaving.”  Her hold tightened desperately, her voice hoarse.

“I know.”  He raised his head, taking a deep breath.  “I wish I could take you with me, but I can’t.”

They stood there silently for a while, holding each other as they let the tears run out.  Finally she pulled away from him, her fingers rubbing the moisture from her cheeks.  “Sorry.  I kinda lost it there, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay.  I was right there with you.”  He bent down, picking up the shirt and shaking it out.  “Turn around.”  When she obeyed, he draped the shirt over her shoulders, smiling slightly when he saw how the fabric hung loosely around her.  His hands gripped her shoulders gently as he turned her back around to face him.  “If you start missing me, just . . . just wear this, okay?  It’ll be like I’m right here giving you a hug.  I know it’s not exactly the same thing, but it’s the best I can do.”

“I know.”  She nodded, putting her arms through the sleeves.  “This . . . it’s not easy, you know?  I don’t want you to go, but I know that you’d be a complete idiot to pass this up and I’d kill you if you did, but I just needed to get it off my chest and you know how I hate all that clingy, girly, mushy crap, but still . . .”

“It’s gonna be rough in the beginning, but I’ll be on the phone with you as much as I’m able.”  He cut off her rambling.  “I’ll be home at least once a month during taping then for the weeks between seasons.  We can hang out and be normal then.”

“It just . . . it’s not gonna be the same.”

“I know it’ll be different for us, but that doesn’t mean that everything has to change.”  He sat down on the bed and pulled on her arm until she was sitting next to him.  “We’ll be as close as always, I just won’t be right here with you.”  A small grin lifted his features.  “At least you’ll be able to see me pretty much everyday, right?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

“Between the TV, phone and the time I’ll get to be home, you won’t even have a chance to miss me.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Josh.”  She looked down, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up until her hands were free of the fabric.  “I’d miss you just as much if your face wasn’t going to be plastered across my TV on weekday afternoons.”  Her fingers played with the bracelet circling her wrist, her gaze zeroing in on the medium sized dark metal beads and an idea popped in her head.  “Take this with you.”

“Wait a second.”  His eyes widened when he saw her unclasping the bracelet.  “Jen, your Dad gave you that bracelet.”

“Right.  Just like yours gave you this shirt.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.  Shirts like that one are all over the place.  If something happens to it, I can always get another one.  You can’t get another bracelet and say that it was your Dad’s.” 

“Josh . . .”  Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on latching the beads around his left wrist.  “I haven’t taken this off since he died.  It’s important to me.  Just like you are.”  The bracelet clicked into place and she turned it so that the clasp was at the base of his palm.  “It’s a little loose, but I think it’s a perfect fit.”  She tilted her head, a small smile curving her lips.  “It looks good on you.”

“Jen . . .”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it.”  She turned her eyes up to meet his.  “Wear it.  Take care of it for me.  And no matter what comes out of this whole Club thing – if you become famous and go off to be in the movies and on the radio, or if you just end up coming back here to Bowie – then you’ll know that you’ve always got a fan in me.”

He sat there quietly, staring down at his wrist, his eyes moving carefully over the beaded chain.  “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

The tone of her voice was sad, drawing his gaze back up to her.  “Okay.”  He leaned over until his shoulder nudged hers.  “How about a smile, then?”

“A smile?”

“Yeah.  Come onnnnn . . .”  His fingers tickled her side as he cajoled her.  “Give me that Jenny smile that always makes my day.”

She cringed away from his fingers, trying her best to keep a straight face.  “Why should I smile?”

“Because I’m not doing too good of a job if my number one fan is all sad.”  He tickled her again.  “I’m supposed to be entertaining, not depressing.”

Twisting to get away from him, she slipped off the bed and fell flat on the floor, screaming when he followed her down.  She rolled, desperate to crawl away from him, but he caught her, expertly flipping her over on her back and pinning her down.  Her hands pushed against his shoulders, sending him toppling to the side and giving her room to escape, but she was laughing too hard to get very far before he caught her again.

Back and forth they fought, until they were finally lying flat on their backs, gasping for breath and just too worn out from laughter to get up.

He looked over to catch her wiping her eyes and grinning up at the ceiling, her chest heaving as she tried to calm down.  “Ah.  There it is.”

The smile disappeared immediately and brown eyes shifted over to him, their brightness betraying her efforts to keep the corners of her mouth from raising again.  “Yeah, okay.  You win.”

Standing up, he offered her a hand, waiting until his fingers were securely around hers before pulling her up next to him.  “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”  She nodded, turning her hand so that she could give his fingers a squeeze.  “Like you said, it’ll be okay.”

“It will be.”  He hugged her once again, his cheek resting on the side of her head.  “I’m gonna miss you, too, Boof.”

She pulled back, an eyebrow raised as she stared at him seriously.  “You’d better miss me.”  The battle was lost, the grin reappearing as she punched him on the shoulder gently.  “Just don’t let those Florida girls make you forget the little people back home, okay?”

His eyes moved over her, from the top of her head, over her bright smile, then on down her confident stance to her crossed arms and finally to the toes of her shoes, peeking out from under the baggy legs of her jeans.  He finished his perusal, bringing his gaze up to take in the full picture of her standing there, swallowed whole by his favorite shirt, and couldn’t keep from grinning.

“Are you kidding?”  He laughed as he moved past her, reaching up to tug on her hair playfully.  “Why would I want a Florida girl when I already have you?”