I was walking a tightrope between not wanting this night to end and not wanting Franny to catch on that I didn’t want this night to end. I cared about what she thought of me, more than I wanted to admit, and the idea of appearing too forward or desperate, or annoying—or something—terrified me into subduing my excitement. But it was almost midnight, and we were standing on Front Street, pulling piping-hot slices of pizza out of a box and shoving them into our mouths. It had been Franny’s turn to gasp in horror when I’d told her I’d never been to Grimaldi’s before.

“You lectured me about never walking the Brooklyn Bridge, and yet you have the audacity not to eat the best pizza in the city, located directly under the bridge? Shame on you.”

Her horror was earned—I’d give her that—but I made up for it by eating three slices without hesitation. The line in front of Grimaldi’s had dwindled, and one of the cooks shuffled up to the window behind us and flipped the sign to CLOSED.

Rationally, I knew I should feel exhausted. The past few hours had been filled with food, alcohol, and walking. But I was on fire, fully charged. It felt like with every look in Franny’s direction, my body would spontaneously combust or rocket into the air.

She took the now-empty box out of my hand without saying a word and walked it over to the blue recycling bin on the corner, the familiarity of this gesture sending a buzz from my heart to my stomach.

“So,” she said, “I should head home.”

I stuffed my disappointment down and nodded, opening my mouth to agree with her—perhaps too eagerly—that of course it was time for this night to end.

“Would you want to walk with me?” she said, cutting me off before I could start talking. My eyes darted to hers, and they were wider than normal. “It’s not that far from here. Five minutes, tops.”

“Yeah!” I sounded too eager. Rein it in, Hayes. “Yeah, of course.”

I crossed and uncrossed my arms and then stuffed my hands in my pockets. When did my hands become so cumbersome?

“Although please remember that I am definitely going to give you a hard time again for never walking across the Brooklyn Bridge until tonight,” I said.

“That’s fair,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “Although aren’t you glad I waited to do it with you for the first time?”

I was.

Franny steered us down Everit, until we made a left on Cranberry Street. “Seriously?” I said as we passed the street sign. “Cranberry Street? That is so quaint it feels like it should be in a movie.”

“It is in a movie.” She turned and gave me the eye.

I shook my head. “I have no idea which one.”