"Sam?" Jen laughed. "I can see that. She doesn't look like the kind of girl who minds getting her hands dirty. Probably didn't even have to worry about what clothes to wear. She looks like that every"

"Jen." I turned around, putting my back to Sam and speaking lower. "I've told you about that. Why do you always pick on her?"

"Why do you always defend her?"

"Because she's my best friend."

"Men and women can't be best friends. One of them always ends up wanting it to be more."

"Wise for your eighteen years," I told her.

"It's true." She sighed. "You hang with her because she's like a...