“What’s wrong with it?” I’m honestly mystified. “The blazer makes it nice, right?”

Monae wipes tears of mirth from her eyes. “Here.” She plucks a button down. “If you want to wear the jacket, pair it with this.”

“Over jeans?”

“Yeah, unless you’re taking her somewhere really fancy. Wait, let me guess, this is the girl from SCORE?”

“What girl from SCORE?”

“The one whose tweets you’re always gushing over.”

The grin steals over my face against my will. Caught. “She invented #TodayForShae, #TomorrowForAll. Now everyone’s using it. That’s her hashtag.”

Monae swoons and makes kissy faces at me. “In other words, she’s used to seeing you in that dank little office in a ratty T-shirt? You don’t need me. You can’t go wrong by comparison.”

I toss the rejected polo into her face. “Shut up. She basically jump-started the movement that’s happening. You can’t tell me that’s not impressive.” I slip my arms into the chosen shirt. Button it up and start tucking the tails into my waistband.

“Hmm, I think don’t tuck it in for now,” Monae says.

“Really?”

“And leave the top two buttons open. You don’t wanna look too buttoned-up. Casual. With the potential to be tidy.”

That sounds good. I grab the blazer by the collar, toss it over my shoulder. “How do I look?”

Monae laughs. “You look hard up. But you’ll do.”

KIMBERLY

Zeke’s apartment is small, and surprisingly girly. Lavender walls and paintings of flowers and dancers. Throw pillows with silver sequins. Everything matches and looks really nice. He makes us tea and serves home-baked cookies from a tin. The intrigue continues. Who is this guy?

We had a nice dinner out, and he paid with his own money this time. He puts my leftover lasagna in the refrigerator, all responsible and careful. That’s the detail I enjoy the most. He thinks I’m going to be here long enough that my leftovers ought to be chilled.

“We also have some beer,” he says. “It looks like we’re out of wine.”

“The tea is good,” I answer, sniffing the lemon steam. Tea and cookies. It’s sweet and wholesome, and somehow both fitting and opposite to what we are doing.

When Zeke sits on the couch beside me, I set aside the tea. I offer him the sexy grin I’ve practiced.

He smiles. Leans toward me. “I want to kiss you now,” he says. His face is close to my face. He pauses, and I’m nervous. Maybe we are both nervous.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I whisper. This time, I feel his smile.