I’m not ready to spend time with Ryan outside of work. If I’m honest with myself, I know I’m not fully over him yet. That’s why we’ve barely spoken about anything except for Hallie since our breakup, and that’s why I can’t bring myself to open Tinder again, even though the app sends plenty of reminders that people nearby have swiped right on me.

“Oh, no worries, we can schedule this for another time,” he says, scratching his ear and blushing.

“Uh, no, go for it. I don’t have to be there—what matters is that people are raising money,” I say awkwardly. “And maybe I could swing by later.”

“Are you sure?” Ryan asks.

I hesitate. “Have an amazing time.”

Hallie finishes beam and heads to vault next. I’m not her coach for either event, so even though I watch from the sidelines and offer encouragement, there’s unfortunately enough space for my mind to wander.

I’m touched that Ryan would organize a fund-raiser. I’d worried that I’d trusted him too easily, and felt duped that I’d fallen for a guy who would shove the worst moments of my life under the rug so that he could climb the career ladder. In the aftermath of the breakup, it was easy to boil everything down to simple black and white: he was wrong, he was a bad guy, and so we were over.

But life isn’t so black and white. People are complicated, and they can grow. I certainly have. I can’t deny that between Ryan turning down Dimitri’s job offer and him organizing this fund-raiser, I’m starting to see him in a better light. He wants to learn and make amends. He’s open to changing his mind, even when it comes at a personal cost. Despite the frost between us ever since Nationals, it wouldn’t be fair to ignore that he’s taken significant strides to earn my approval again. The next step might be forgiveness.

I sit on the edge of the blue floor and pick at a piece of fuzz coming loose from the fabric. Sixty feet away, Ryan leans over the vault table, explaining something I can’t quite hear to Hallie. He talks with his hands, and she nods along. Hallie’s attention is tightly fixated on what he’s saying; I can tell from the serious way she stands with her hands on her hips, biting her lip. She trusts him, doesn’t she? Maybe I should trust him, too.

SOS, what are you doing tomorrow night? I text Sara on my lunch break.

I’m eating last night’s leftover tilapia and zucchini straight from the Tupperware in my car. Ryan’s invitation, however casual, made me too jittery to eat within the same building as him.

I have a friend’s housewarming party at 8, wanna come? she texts back.