She studied me for a moment. “You’ve been busy lately.”

Busy was an understatement. Between school, work, and dance, I had little time to breathe, let alone participate in dinners that felt more like interrogations. But staying busy was the only way I knew to cope—anything to keep my body moving, my hands occupied, and my mind off the things I couldn’t control.

Dad wiped his mouth with his napkin, glancing between me and Blake before clearing his throat. “Tomorrow we’re planning to visit your aunt. She hasn’t seen you in a while, and your cousins have been asking about you. It’d be nice if you could join us.”

A few weeks ago, I’d have jumped at the chance. I’d have welcomed such a distraction. I’d have needed to be there, to soak in the normalcy of it.

But I had already made plans.

“I can’t,” I said carefully. “I’ve got plans.”

“Plans?” Dad echoed, his eyebrows lifting in curiosity.

“A…date,” I added.

I felt the air shift, as if I had just tossed a grenade in the middle of the table. The weight of Blake’s gaze pressed against the side of my face, but I refused to look at him.

“A date?” Dad’s tone was flat but laced with disbelief.

Nodding, I took a measured sip of my water, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on me. “Yeah,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, though I knew everyone at the table heard it.

“With who?” Mom asked with a smile, her curiosity piqued.

“Reese.”

Dad set his napkin down and leaned forward. “Reese, huh?” He frowned, his face scrunching up as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “And how well do you know this Reese?”

“Well enough to go out with him,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. “I met him at work⁠—”

“Met him at work,” he echoed, unimpressed. “And you think that’s good enough?”

A sigh escaped me. “I don’t need a résumé, Dad. I’m going on a date, not hiring an employee.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You know how I feel about boys you meet at work.”

“Dad, come on,” I groaned. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You work at a movie theater, Beverly. That’s not exactly a breeding ground for fine young men.”

“Dad—”

Ignoring my protest, he turned his attention to Blake, who had been silent up to this point. “Blake, do you know this boy?”

Blake set his fork down and rolled his neck with a crack. “Yes.”

“And? What’s he like? Is he good enough for our Beverly?"

My head whipped toward Blake.

His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and…

My stomach dropped. No. No, no, no, no.

I shook my head slightly, warning him. Don’t you dare.

He gripped his fork like he was debating throwing it.