He whistles at her from around the corner. At first, she ignores, but then he whistles again. She turns around, with a curious look. She is surprised. “Hey, how have you been?” He places an arm on her shoulder and starts to massage her neck. He utters something about wanting to know how she’s doing. She seems confused, unsure of how to interpret his touch. He tells her to give him a hug, and she does… almost unwillingly, mechanically, like an automatic uncontrolled response. Her eyes seem to ask, “What the hell?” But she hugs him. And he hugs her… and he sighs… and he holds on a few seconds too long. Then, he lets go. She looks to him for an explanation. None. He proceeds to walk her to class.
She is smiling… she is interpreting… she is creating all sorts of fantastic meanings to his every cleverly intentional yet conveniently vague actions.