My heart skips as I smile at the screen. Well, then … Guess he wasn’t lying about memorizing numbers. I quickly add him to my contacts and make sure Evie can’t see my phone before typing a response.

Me: I see what you did there, funny man. Def should have used Sunset Charters. They promised champagne + smooth jazz.

Lucky: U would have yacked that up. I gave u old fish and sealant. Where’s the love?

Me: It’s at the bottom of my empty bank account.

Lucky: Told u a million times, you don’t need to pay me back

Me: Told you a million times, I do.

Lucky: Next time, I’ll bring smooth jazz and a barf bag.

Me: Next time, we sit on the dock.

Lucky: How about dinner, instead?

I stare at the screen, hot and cold chills running up and down my arms. Is he … asking me out on a date? That can’t be right. Can it? Smashing my hopes, he rapidly types another text before I can reply.

Lucky: Remember Sunday dinners? Cousins. Uncles and aunts. Neighbors. Backyard cookout? My mom asked me to invite u.

Oh. Not a date.

But that was silly of me, duh. He’s my friend.

Friends don’t date.

Regardless, dinner with his family might be … good. I used to love Sunday dinners at Lucky’s house. I looked forward to it all week, like a big nerd.

Me: Not sure how to respond to “my mom made me ask you.”

Lucky: Didn’t say she MADE me. Give me a little credit. I’m exercising free will.

Lucky: But if it’s too weird, I’ll tell her you’re busy.

Me: I’m not opposed to weird. Did you tell your mom I nearly upchucked in your boat?

Lucky: Again, not MY boat. And yes. *steeples fingers*

Me: Oh God.

Lucky: You work at the Nook tomorrow?

Me: Until 7.

Lucky: Meet me in the boatyard side alley at 7:15.

Me: I didn’t say yes yet.

Lucky: I hate begging.

Me: Knowing that is its own reward. See you at 7:15.

Okay, then. Sunday dinner. At the Karrases. I just agreed to that. Not intimating at all. I’m not feeling like my insides are melting. No sirree, Bob! Not me. Guess I’m gonna need to find another excuse to give Mom for tomorrow night, since I’m technically not supposed to be seeing Lucky, as Mom put her foot down—forbidden territory, stay away from that boy. He’s a vandal, Josie. Him. Not me. At this point, I’ll need a garbage truck to haul away all the lies I’ve been accumulating.