“Have you seen the video yet, Shelby?” asks Beth from the behind the bar. She places a basket of hot wings in front of each of us.

I look up at her, surprised. “No. Have you?”

Beth looks guilty. I look at Kevin. “You have, too?” He nods, shoving up his frames. There’s something significant flashing behind his lenses.

I turn to Cam. “Has everyone seen it but me?”

He shakes his head, taking a long, lingering sip of his beer, and then he licks his lips, Cheshire-cat grin in place. “Just them.”

“It’s really good,” Beth says.

“You’re gonna love it, Shelb,” Lorelai says.

“When do I get to see it?”

Cameron lifts a shoulder, lifting a wing to his lips. I shove at him, impatient, and he swallows. “I have it upstairs. Eat. You’re starving. I’ll take you up after.”

The way he says it feels charged, and a little shiver goes up my spine. “Okay,” I agree softly.

I eat as much as I can while our friends banter like they’ve known each other for decades. I’ve stopped listening, feeling distracted, when Cam finally nudges me to let me know it’s time to head up. I hop off the stool on suddenly wooden legs. Not because I’m scared, but I am weirdly hesitant.

He takes my hand. “You look like you forgot your lines.”

“I never forget my lines,” I say loftily.

He leads me up the stairwell outside and into his apartment, which looks messier than normal.

“Sorry, it’s a sty,” he says.

“You’ve been preoccupied,” I say. “And I don’t mind. It’s kind of nice to see. Like a glimpse into Distracted Cameron.”

“More like Mega-Focused Cameron. They used to tease me all the time about my messy tent at Nat Geo. I would get so absorbed in my work that my tent was basically a drop-off location.”

His apartment isn’t gross, only scattered. No open food containers or days-old dirty dishes. Just unopened mail and shoes kicked off wherever he settled with his laptop. That kind of thing. And I’m struck with the idea that I want to be the one to pick up after him when he’s focused like this. At the end of the day, when he’s tired and on deadline, I want to be there to make sure he’s eating and cover him with a blanket when he passes out on the couch.

I shake myself.

“So, where’s this video?”

He takes my shoulders and steers me to a squishy leather chair that I happen to know is plenty big enough for two and gently prods me to sit down. Then he picks up his laptop and carries it over, making a few clicks on the screen before placing it in my lap. “When you’re ready, click Play.”

“You aren’t going to watch?”