In my mind: Alanna (age? still far too young) curled up nude on her rumpled bed, watching Jeramie dress. She's propped up on her elbows, tousled curls over her shoulders, across her back - in her face a little, but she's watching him too intently to brush her hair away. Hands clenched. Kittenlike.
He's not looking at her.
What she wants to ask: When can we tell people about us?