Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

"'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.' First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That's what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can't hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.' And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I've thought a lot about this."

"'I Wanna Hold Your Hand,'" I repeat.

"And so you are, my friend. So you are."

He closes his eyes now, fingers still folded into mine. Even Dev's breathing is rock 'n' roll, full of kicks and sputters. I angle my head on top of his. We sit there for a second, watching traffic.

"I think I blew it," I say.

"With Tris?"

"No. With Norah. With Tris, I didn't have a chance. But tonight, with Norah-it might've been a chance."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know-sulk?"

Dev removes his hand from mine and squeezes me lightly on the shoulder.

"You're damn pretty when you sulk," he tells me, "but in this case, I think a more active course might be advantageous."

"Where the hell are you getting these long words from?" I have to ask.

"You, stupid. 'If you act courageous / it could be advantageous / to make me act outrageous / all over your blank pages'-did you think I was, like, learning these songs phonetically?"

"'My love ain't hypothetical / or pronounced for you phonetical / so it might just be heretical / if you don't love me back,'" I quote in return.

Dev nods. "Exactly."

"Where do we come up with this shit?" I ask. "I mean, where do these words all come from? I sit here on this sidewalk and they just appear to me."

"Maybe they're always there and you just need to live enough life to get them to make sense," Dev says.

Someone whistles a birdcall behind us. Dev and I both turn, and there's Ted just out of the club, shining like a diamond under a spotlight. He's keeping a respectful distance, but I can tell he's waiting.

"You gonna go hold his hand?" I ask Dev playfully.

"Hell, yes," Dev says, sitting up now. "Don't get me wrong-we're totally going to make the beast with two backs tonight. But if we do it right, it's going to feel like holding hands."

There's no way Ted could've heard us. But when Dev walks over to him, Ted offers his palm. I watch them walk down the street, hand in hand. I don't think they notice, but their legs are in perfect rhythm. Before they round the corner, they both turn as one and wave a goodnight to me.

I'm on my own again. I decide to check my messages-and realize that not only have I lost my fucking jacket, but I've also lost my fucking phone. So many indignities and I start to feel indignant. But that's nothing compared to trying to find a pay phone on Ludlow Street at three or so in the morning. I walk all the way back to Houston before I find one on the corner of a deli. The receiver feels like it's covered with pond scum, and the dial tone seems to be coming from North Dakota. The first three quarters are returned to the drop slot. I am about to lose my shit entirely, but then the next two quarters stay put and the volume button amps things up enough that I can actually hear the call start.

Norah answers on the fourth ring.

"Who the hell is this?" she asks.

I mean, I knew she would answer. But still I'm dumbstruck.

"Is Nick there?" I finally ask.

"No," she says. "He's out defeating a minor threat. Do you want to call back for his voice mail?"

It's like I can't help it. I am absolutely falling back into conversation with her.

"Can you give him a message?" I ask.

"Do I need a pen? Cuz if I do, you're so fucking out of luck."

"No. Could you just tell him that he totally blew it when he let Norah get away in that cab?"

There's a pause. "Who the fuck is this?"

"And could you let him know that I'm really fucking relieved that he has finally unshackled himself from that Tris bitch?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"And could you pass on the message that it's not enough to be sitting alone on a sidewalk writing a song for a girl if you don't have the guts to at least try talking to her again?"

Another pause. "Are you serious?"

"Where are you?"

"Veselka. Where are you?"

"Doesn't matter," I say. "I'll be at Veselka soon. In the meantime, can you pass on my message?"

I hang up before she can reply.

14. NORAH

That is so rude, hanging up on a person like that.

I refuse to believe that call just happened. I'm so sleepy I'm hallucinating.

Just in case, I go into the bathroom, splash some cold water on my face to wake the fuck up, finger through my hair to make it look tousled in an attractive way but not so attractive that it looks like I tousled it because I care what it looks like, and reach down inside my shirt to rearrange my boobs. Salvatore looks the other way.