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“I eat apples, most days,” says Roger, “because there is nothing more disappointing than an overripe nectarine. Half the time that’s how you get them, unless they’re underripe and hard as rubber; you have to either slice one to test every day or trust your crappy luck. You can’t tell by looking or touching, and the zone of ripeness is so small. But when you get a good one, they’re the best fruit in the world.”

Holly’s amused. “Did you have a point?”

“Is that what it’s like to like boys sometimes?”

“Well,” she says, “no.”

“I’m hungry again,” Rose mutters.