“I know,” said Dave simply. And that strange lightness he had been feeling disappeared again, and was replaced once more by the heaviness that made him feel like he had a boat anchor inside him. “I’m sorry. I just thought that you liked me the way I like you. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He was trying to defend himself—even though what he had done was indefensible.

“Doesn’t matter what you meant,” said Rhonda.

Dave realized that Rhonda was right. It didn’t matter what he had meant. The fact was, he had done her wrong. And he needed to make it right. But he couldn’t figure out what to say or do to make it right. So he just said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I really am. I just—really like you. And if you don’t, well…” Dave didn’t finish his sentence, because there was nothing more to say. And so, he started to go. Because—what else could he do?

Rhonda watched Dave as he headed toward the door. And she felt a strange lightness start to grow inside her. It made her feel like she had fireflies dancing around in her stomach, lighting her up from the inside. And it seemed to make her heart swell. And it filled her with courage. And it seemed to commandeer her body and force her to blurt out, “I do,” just as Dave reached the door.

Dave stopped. And turned to Rhonda and asked, “Huh?”

“I do. Like you. The way you like me.”

“You do?” Dave felt that strange lightness fill up his insides again.

“Yeah,” said Rhonda, looking at the floor.

And Dave started nodding. And then muttered, “Well, all right, then.” And he looked at the floor, too.

And then he looked at Rhonda. Who was still looking at the floor. And he asked, “Um … so … do you … wanna … be together? Or go out? Or somethin’?”

Rhonda looked at Dave. And looked him over. And considered him. And the question. And then looked at the floor again and said, “I guess,” as nonchalantly as she could—even though she was feeling anything but nonchalant about being together or going out with Dave.

“Well, all right, then!” Dave repeated. And then he just stood there smiling goofily and nodding his head up and down, waiting for Rhonda to make the next move.

But Rhonda wasn’t moving.

She was standing stock still—looking at the floor still.

“So … um…” Dave ducked down and tried to move his face into Rhonda’s field of vision. “Can—can I—um … I would like … to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

Rhonda didn’t respond.

“Rhonda?” asked Dave.

Rhonda shook her head back and forth and continued to look at the floor and said, “It’s not. Okay.”

“Oh. Okay.” Dave was crushed. And that strange lightness he was feeling was replaced by the strange heaviness again.

And he knew he needed to respect Rhonda’s wishes. So he did so—the only way he knew how: He started to go. Again.