Drew Underwood Hull was his name. After she’d broken up with him—they’d only been an item a little while during freshman year—she’d noted with chagrin that his initials were DUH. “Duh,” she’d said to herself as she realized it, full of self-mockery. Even before that, she’d kicked herself mentally more times than she could count for ever getting involved with him, though she’d once thought, early in their relationship—maybe for two weeks—that she was crazy about him. Or maybe it was ten days. Or one week. Or three days. She wasn’t sure now. It was three days, anyway, probably—yes, that was it.