
It was a stunning June day in 2013. We lay on the beach in Antibes, France, soaking up the sun in the Cote D’Azure. I brushed away a few crumbs from the heavenly pain au chocolate I’d just consumed at an impressively reserved speed. Somehow we’d been on the topic of high school and I was grilling Adam about whether or not he regretted not attending his 10 year reunion. He seemed quite neutral about the entire thing. “Do you think you’ll go to your high school reunion next year?” he casually asked me. Without a beat, I replied, “Only if my friends go,” in the ditziest tone. Apparently my unfiltered response was to revert back to high school me. We both burst out laughing at my desperation, and went back to our ever important pastries.