“That leg needs to come up faster,” I observe. “That’ll keep the jump short and sweet, which is what we want.”

She nods like a little soldier and jumps again.

“Faster,” I insist. “The leg comes up quick and high, then snaps back.”

“Snaps back,” she repeats, continuing to bounce.

At the height of each jump, her chin tilts up and her fingers flick out with style. She looks like a star up there. It’s gratifying to see her improve after months of working together.

And after seeing Dimitri last week, that’s what I need: I have to know that I’m helping Hallie, not hurting her. If I pass down what he did, I would never forgive myself. Hallie screws up her mouth in concentration as she tracks the distance between her and the trampoline. Her full body weight plunges down on the black mesh and she rebounds brightly into the air once more. Her limbs soar jubilantly into shape; at the peak of her jump, she beams. She knows she nailed it.

I haven’t seen Ryan outside of practice since Dimitri and Jasmine’s cocktail party. I’ve gone to yoga after work twice, and on the nights I’ve been free, he’s had plans with friends. All week, I’ve felt starved for attention; I had forgotten what it’s like to crave somebody like this. I could physically feel the way I yearned for quality time with him—sometimes, low in my gut; other times, like an actual pang in my chest. When he texted me yesterday evening to ask if I’d be free for a date night tonight, I replied yes practically while my phone still buzzed with the incoming message.

He texted confusing instructions: I have a secret plan for us. Wear something warm, and make sure you have socks.

Socks? What’s the plan? I wrote back.

He replied, Like I said—it’s a secret ;)

I knew I wasn’t going to weasel the truth out of him, so instead, I tried to puzzle out what we could possibly be doing—hiking? skiing?—and took great care to find a matching pair of socks without any holes. Tonight, after drilling stag jumps with Hallie on the trampoline, Ryan and I waited until Hallie had left the gym’s premises in her dad’s car before we both climbed into his car. We decided earlier that I’d stay over at his place and he’d drive me back to the gym the next morning. The plan made me feel as if we were serious and committed, or at least on the way toward it.

“So, now you can tell me where we’re going,” I say once he’s pulled out of the parking lot.

“Nope,” he says.

“Not even a hint?” I ask.

He’s resolute. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”