I glance at Hallie—she’s been doing a variation of this same warm-up routine since she was in preschool. She doesn’t need me to hover over her and bark instructions. I leave my regular perch by the stereo and head to the back of the nearly empty gym to find Ryan leaning against the wall and looking at something on his phone.

“Hey, can we talk?” I ask quietly. “Like, for real.”

We’re far enough that Hallie won’t hear us, but still, I’m nervous.

“Hi, what’s up?” he says, making a valiant effort to appear casual.

I wring my hands and steel myself for a moment of terrifying honesty. “I had so much fun with you the other night, and I really appreciate that you invited me out,” I begin. “It was all amazing, including the kiss, but I… I don’t think it should happen again. I think we’d be better off as friends.”

“Oof,” he says coolly. “You’re quick to turn me down.”

“No! That’s not it. I mean, if the circumstances were different, I’d want to give us a real shot.”

He raises one eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath and try to summon the vulnerability I need to pull off this conversation successfully.

“I like you. A lot. I really appreciate that we come from the same world; it makes me feel like you understand me better than most people. I think that if we…”

This is mortifying to say out loud, but I have to keep going.

“If we got together for real, it would be incredible,” I say. I’m fully emotionally naked in front of him now. “But that scares me, because we could get caught up in whatever’s between us, and that could affect our ability to work together.”

His face softens. He doesn’t look angry—just sad.

“This isn’t just about us,” I remind him. “It’s about Hallie, too. This is a once-in-a-lifetime shot for her.”

I see his gaze drift over my shoulder, and I turn to follow it. Hallie is stretching in an oversplit—a split with stacks of mats under each foot and her crotch flush against the floor. She grabs the toes of her front foot and bends over to face her knee. The position requires superhuman flexibility developed over years, which sums up my point exactly. We all have to stay focused on our goal.

He sighs. “You’re right. I get it.”

“I’d still love to be friends, though, if you’re open to it,” I add. “Really.”

His expression is tough to read at first, but it ultimately crinkles into an attempt at a smile. “Of course.”