There's something about Cohen - Cohen of all people - that is oddly enticing.

She's found herself jealous of Anna. Jealous. Of Anna. The old Summer Roberts wouldn't even bat an eyelash at the thought of Anna and Seth together, and yet, she can't help but feel her heartbeat rush just a little bit faster when he smiles that stupid little lopsided smile of his. Or be nauseated when Anna smiles back at him, and scrunches her nose - and argh, she can't stand being around it. Not one bit. Not at all.

She should get herself checked out by a doctor. Maybe there's some previously undiagnosed strain of tropical fever that only manifests itself when the sufferer is around unbearably lame puns or comic books for too long. Cohenitis, or something like it. And it could be cured with daily injections of shoe shopping or tanning or something completely unfamiliar and foreign to the Cohen mind like that.

Except she wonders whether she actually minds.

The little fluttering feeling is nice. And he really does have a cute smile. And maybe geeks aren't half-bad.

Maybe she wouldn't ask for the cure after all, if one existed as such. Maybe she'll stay the course, see where it takes her.

It couldn't hurt.