“Hey,” he answered on the first ring.

“I just got your text. What?”

“She wants us to come over. She’s insisting.”

I sat down on the long bench, thankful that no one else was in the room. “When?”

“Now?” he said like it was a question.

I blew out a long breath. “Are you kidding me?”

“I know. I tried to blow her off, but if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll have to do it tomorrow. Let’s just get it over with. Please? I’ll make it up to you.”

He sounded desperate. Or maybe he was just tired and didn’t have the kind of energy to argue with his mother, knowing that he was going to lose.

“I need an hour,” I begrudgingly agreed. It had already been such a long day, and I was exhausted.

“I’ll see you in thirty.”

He ended the call, and I wanted to throw my phone against the wall. Or “accidentally” drop it in the sewer on my way home.

I GROANED OUTWARDLY when the buzzer at my apartment let me know that he had arrived in thirty minutes, like he’d said, instead of listening to me.

“I’ll buzz you up, but I’m not ready,” I said into the intercom before pressing the button to allow him to enter the building.

I hadn’t even told Joseph my apartment number, but he must have known it from Kayla because a loud knock on the door had me shouting for him to just come in. Peering around the hallway corner, I watched the door swing open, and Joseph stepped through the threshold, his eyes catching mine immediately.

“You can’t just invite people inside, Sutton. What if I were a murderer?”

“I would do my best to defend myself then.”

“Please be safer,” he said, sounding irritated as he looked around our living space.

“Let me finish getting ready.”

I was relieved to see him wearing a pair of jeans and a tight-fitted T-shirt. I’d wanted to dress casual, too, for the meeting with his mother, but I hadn’t been sure if his family even believed in the term.

“Joseph, help yourself to anything in the fridge,” I shouted, but he stayed quiet. I assumed he was on his phone, handling work emails, but I almost screamed when I looked in the mirror and saw his reflection behind me. “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see what was taking you so long.” He stepped into the small space, both of our bodies barely fitting.

“Stop being a creeper,” I complained, pushing him out of the bathroom. “Out.”

He grinned. He liked the challenge. “I like this color on you.” He fingered the sleeve of my cream-colored sweater.

“What is tonight going to be like?” I asked as I attempted to straighten my hair. It had been up in a ponytail all day long, so there was a bump at the top that I was trying—and failing—to tame.