He will spend the rest of high school telling the story of how close he came. He will spend college telling it. He will, in his mid-twenties, at a rooftop bar in Brooklyn, tell it to a woman he is trying to impress, who will listen politely, nod, and then say, “Wait. So she was… your tutor? And you were fifteen? And you thought she was into you?” And he will pause, for the first time, and set down his drink, and something will shift very slightly behind his eyes, and he will say, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Until next week. Stay weird.