"Yeah, I... only know who one of those people is," Chrissy admits, visibly a little embarrassed by that fact, though she manages to return his smile. She can't really claim to be good at any subjects in school, but history tends to be one that she doesn't do too badly in. Besides, she's seen the movie. The latter two people, though, she doesn't have a clue about, convinced all over again that he must think she's shallow and sheltered, just another vapid, popular cheerleader.

He doesn't sound like he does. He's never once treated her like that. Despite the irony in worrying about what he thinks of her when he's telling her not to worry about what people think of her, though, old habits die hard, and the instinct is one too deeply ingrained in her to shake that easily.

"I'm pretty sure that crying on your couch is the least I've ever cared what anyone would think, though," she points out. Even as the words leave her mouth, she knows they aren't true. For a few moments after she woke up, she didn't care, either, too scared to do anything but desperately cling to him. It isn't something she wants to remind him of. "So that's something."