“So what is it you do for a living, Jack Be Nimble?” Pulling my attention from his nice-looking hands, I focus on his equally nice-looking eyes.

He stares into his coffee like it can tell him the future.

“Oh my god, you’re totally a black-market drug dealer, aren’t you?”

“Technically I think all drug dealers are black-market drug dealers.”

“If you think I’m going to be deterred from this conversation, then you clearly haven’t been paying attention. I don’t know if you remember or not, but I don’t currently have a job, so I can literally sit here and badger you all day, or you can just tell me a few tiny details about yourself. Despite my assholeish nature, I’m mostly not judgmental.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t currently have a job.”

“Dude! Are we going to be funemployed together?” I hold my hand up for a high five, but he leaves me hanging. Rude.

“I’ve actually never had a job. And I’m not currently looking for one. Or planning to get one.”

I choke on my coffee. “You’ve never had a job? Like ever? Not even a babysitting gig or a bartending shift?”

He shrugs, and another one of those red flushes creeps up his cheeks. “I realize how much of a dick this makes me, but I’ve never needed to work a traditional job. And so I haven’t.”

I—the person who ran my own rip-off version of the Baby-Sitters Club until I was legally old enough to work—cannot even fathom just not working. Like just not having a job. I know that sounds like the kind of thing most people dream about, but it sounds like my worst fucking nightmare. Sitting around all day with nothing but my inner thoughts? No thank you. “So what do you do all day?” The question flies out of my mouth before I think it through.

Jack shrugs again. “I play video games and read and take lots of walks.”

“And for the other twenty-two hours?” My voice screeches at a level probably only the neighborhood dogs can hear. “Sorry, I know I promised not to be judgmental and I’m not judging, really—I’m just trying to figure out how you do this, because I literally think I’d lose my mind if I didn’t have some kind of structure to my life.”

He purses his lips, pulling his eyes away from mine. “I probably did lose my mind there a bit. Maybe more than a bit.” He pulls his arms tighter around his chest, like they’re physically bracing him.