Free Saints of Augustine by P. E. Ryan

she’d been offered a joy buzzer, then brought up her own hand. “Melissa Rudge.”
    â€œThe photographer,” Justin said. “I know your work from the Fountain .”
    A goofy grin spread across Melissa’s face. “Wow! I’m recognized!” She pumped his hand energetically.
    â€œYou’re right about cliques, by the way. They’re boring and exclusive,” Justin said.
    Sam felt nervous, for some reason. His hands weren’t near anything, but he was certain he wasabout to knock something over. Justin extended his own hand across the counter, and repeated his name. “I’m Sam,” Sam said, shaking it. He looked at Justin’s wrist. He wore a thin, dark rope bracelet.
    â€œSam Findley,” Melissa clarified. “He works on the Fountain , too.”
    â€œOh, yeah, I remember that really classy article you wrote about…who was it—Ms. Crockett?—retiring.”
    â€œThat’s…me.” Sam wondered when Justin McConnell had entered the food court and if that moment was before or after Sam had removed the waffle-cone hat from his head.
    â€œHe’s going to be editor-in-chief next year,” Melissa said.
    Justin nodded, impressed. “Kudos.”
    â€œYeah,” Sam said. “It’s a very important position. I’m actually doing undercover work right now, a crackdown piece on the whole…frozen yogurt scandal.” Shut up , he told himself. Close your mouth .
    But Justin laughed. “Good. I love scandal. I’ll be part of it, with my small cup of mango-papaya.”
    Sam felt himself grinning. He looked from Justinto Melissa, who motioned with her head toward the yogurt machine behind him. “Oh!” he said more loudly than he’d intended. “Duh!” He fumbled for a cup. “So…you moved here from the Midwest, right?”
    â€œYeah. Is it obvious?”
    â€œNo, it’s just what I’d heard from Teisha.”
    â€œThat would be Teisha Springer,” Justin said. “Next year’s class president.”
    â€œYou seem to know everyone.”
    â€œHard not to know Teisha after that big-budget campaign she launched. I’m still seeing those neon-colored posters whenever I close my eyes. But I knew her before that. She was the student assigned to show me around when I first got to the school.”
    â€œDidn’t you move here from one of those square states?” Melissa asked.
    â€œSort of. Ohio. It’s not square, but it might as well be.” Justin dug money out of his pocket as Sam slid the cup across the counter. “What shape do you call Florida?”
    â€œOh, square,” Melissa said, “definitely.”
    Sam couldn’t stop staring at him. Justin looked sorelaxed, so comfortable with himself. Sam never could have gotten his own limp hair to swoop up like that. And Justin’s skin was completely clear, which made Sam remember the bump on his chin that he shouldn’t have messed with earlier because it was probably even redder now. When he met Justin’s eyes again, Justin was looking right at him.
    â€œYou have a wicked smile,” Justin said.
    The compliment (was it a compliment?) caught Sam off guard. “Wicked as in Witch of the West?”
    â€œNo. Wicked as in angelic. Sort of like bad as in good.”
    â€œOr hot as in cool,” Melissa added.
    â€œExactly,” Justin said. “In fact, you have Montgomery Clift’s smile.”
    â€œHe does. You’re right.”
    Who was Montgomery Clift? Embarrassed, Sam glanced down and said, “What’s your shirt mean?” He pointed to the words YOUR BLISS .
    Justin did a one-eighty for them. The back of his shirt read FOLLOW IT .
    â€œVery cool,” Melissa said, nodding.
    â€œYou think? The three guys I passed in the parking lot didn’t seem to agree.”
    â€œWhat did they say?”
    â€œWell, two of them snickered and one