I can see a number above everyone's head—how many people they've truly been with. My boyfriend's number was always zero, until he kissed another girl for a dare. It started climbing instantly. I dumped him on the spot. Then his cold, untouchable teammate—rumored to be a player—drew "take a girl home tonight" and offered me his hand. I looked up. His number was zero. So I took it. But at dawn, he was gone, leaving only a note: "Now look at my number."
