KIMBERLY

We sit side by side on the steps of the church. Zeke rubs his forehead, looking tired. “I’m starving. You wanna get some food?”

“Oh, sure.”

He jolts upright, dropping his hand. “I mean, uh, no. I mean, Kimberly, would you like to … or maybe not … I didn’t mean to suggest … I just said it.” His cheeks are all flushed. He’s adorable when he’s flustered.

“I’m hungry, too,” I said. “There’s a diner where my roommate works. If her manager’s not in, she can hook us up with some free dessert or something.”

“Sounds good,” he says, relieved.

He’s bending over backward to make clear that he wasn’t asking me out. Got it. I let him off the hook with a smile. “You act like you’ve never eaten out with a friend before.”

“Friend? Right. Yeah.” He shakes his head. “That’s totally normal.”

Now my cheeks are flushing. We’re side by side now. Maybe he won’t notice.

We walk in silence for a block or so. Should I be trying to make conversation? My head is kind of swirling with everything that happened this morning and I don’t know how to shake loose of it. I can’t get the image of those kids and that hateful sign out of my head.

“You’re really good at the media stuff,” Zeke says. “What did you major in?”

“Oh, I didn’t go to college.”

He blinks long and slow at me. “Really? Why not?”

“I got my cosmetology license,” I say.

He nods. “That’s great. And do you like what you’re doing now?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. “I make decent tips at the salon. And I still have some time to volunteer.” I wave my cell phone at him. The battery is down to one red sliver of life.

He grins. “Sure. Well, we’re glad you’re on board.”

We. Okay. I get it. Still, it’s no effort at all to smile back. He has that kind of draw. “Right.”

“I mean, uh—” His long fingers dance in the air between us. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here.”

My face is hot, hot. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re here, too. Although, I mean, I guess none of us would be here if not for you, so…” Gah. Awkward much? My brain screams at me. SHUT UP.

“I’m proud of the work we’re doing,” he says. “SCORE is going to make a difference around here. I really think so.”

“Me too.” My hand twitches with the impulse to reach out and hold his. But I can’t. That would be weird. I don’t know where he is with all of this. It’s okay. We’re friends. Colleagues. He wants to share a meal with me. It’s enough.