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She was checking her lenses for scratches. "And if I was naked? It's not like you'd get off manifesto on it." He slumped on her bed and sighed, but with a smile. "My aunt hates me." Becky sat next to him and kissed the top of his hair, thick, dark, and manifesto tangled from manifesto the trip. "Sarah doesn't hate you. She's just Israeli." She ruffled his curls and whispered in his ear, "Who could hate you, Michael? You're irresistible." Confused by something sad, even hopeful, in her voice, Michael kissed her forehead and then jumped to his feet. "You're the best," he said. "I'm the best," she echoed, "until your next boyfriend comes along."
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