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“Nope. Just me and my mom.” He pauses before adding, “And because I know you’re dying to ask—my dad is alive. They divorced when I was nine.”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to let on that I’d definitely been picturing a great childhood tragedy in which his dad died in some sudden and horrible way. Something like relief surges through me, even though I know that divorce can be really hard on a kid, too.

“He lives in San Francisco with his new wife,” Quint adds. “I spend two weeks with him every summer and some major holidays. I’m not sad. I’m not traumatized. It’s fine.”

I press my lips together. It’s tempting to tease him for this speech, which he’s clearly given a time or two in the past, but I resist the urge. For three whole seconds. “And you’ve spent how many years in therapy trying to get to this point of well-rounded acceptance?”

The look he gives me is withering, but in a good-natured way. It occurs to me, somewhat bewilderingly, that this conversation has actually turned into something kind of… friendly.

“Funny,” he says. “So, do you like your name? I’ve always wondered.”

I shrug. “I don’t dislike it. There have been times when I hated it, especially with a twin named Jude, because the jokes pretty much write themselves. Prudence the Prude and her weird brother, Jude… Heard that one a lot in middle school.”

Quint grimaces. “Your parents didn’t think that one through?”

“I’m not sure how they could have missed it. But ‘Dear Prudence’ is a beautiful song, one of my favorites, in fact. So… whatever. People are jerks. I’m used to it.”

“It kind of fits you, doesn’t it?”

I stiffen, the words striking me between my rib cage. My eyes narrow. “Because I’msucha prude?”

He looks startled. “No, that isn’t… Why do you keep doing that?”

I roll my eyes. “Please. I know what people think about me. I get it. I don’t goof off. I take things too seriously. But I’m not a total killjoy, either.” I swallow, finding it suddenly impossible to hold his gaze. I don’t say it out loud, but this is actually one of my biggest fears. That, in reality, Iama total killjoy. And these arguments sound defensive even in my own head, and I realize I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting something rude right back at him.Maybe if you’d ever showed up on time to class you could have taken five seconds to getto know me, rather than just asking what you missed and copying off my notes.“I know I can be intense. I know I’m not… silly or flirtatious or whatever, but—”

“Okay, stop!” Quint leans over the table. “You just put, like, a zillion words in my mouth that I didn’t say. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was a hitting a nerve here.”

“You did not hit a nerve.”

“Prudence.” He looks bewildered. “Ten minutes ago you almost took off my head for suggesting you were having fun while singing karaoke. Here. Just, give me a second.” He takes out his cell phone and types something into it. “‘Prudent.Adjective. Acting with or showing care and thought for the future.’” He turns the phone so I can see the definition from dictionary.com. “You care about stuff. Yeah, you take things seriously. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

I swallow, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and… strangely flattered.

“Anyway,” he says, putting away the phone. “It’s better than being named for a surly old sea captain.”

“Sea captain?”

“Yeah. Quint.” He eyes me speculatively. “Captain Quint?”

I shake my head.

“The shark hunter fromJaws?”

I shrug.

“Hold on. You’ve never seenJaws?”

“Hold on. Your marine-animal-loving mom named you after a shark hunter?”

“My question first.”

I give him an exasperated look, then swing my arm in the direction of the boardwalk. “No, I’ve never seenJaws.We live on the beach. I’m already afraid of sharks. Why would I make it worse?”

He drags a hand through his hair. “Exactly! We live on the beach! It’s like the best beach-town movie of all time!”

“No, thank you. I’m good.”

“I do not accept that. It’s a classic. You have to see it.”