It cannot be because of me, right?

But Ian stops just a couple of feet away from Alexis, studies me with a small smile for a couple of seconds longer than is customary, and then says: “Hannah.”

That’s it. That’s all he says. My name. And I really didn’t want to see him. I really figured it would be weird to be with him again, after our not-quite-orgasmless first and only meeting. But . . .

It’s not. Not at all. It just feels natural, nearly irresistible to smile at him, push away from the table and up on my toes for a hug, fill my nostrils with his clean scent, and say against his shoulder, “Hey, you.”

His hands press briefly into my spine, and we fit together just like four years ago. Then, a second later, we both pull back. I don’t do blushing, not ever, but my heart is beating fast and there’s a curious heat creeping up my chest.

Maybe it’s because this should be weird. Right? Four years ago, I came on to him. Then I came on him. Then I turned him down when he asked me to spend orgasmless, space-explorationless time with him. That’s what I wanted to avoid: the male, awkward, ego-wounded reaction I was sure Ian would have.

But now he’s here, disarmingly pleased to see me, and I just feel happy to be in his presence, like I did back when we coded our afternoon away. He looks a bit older; the day-old stubble is about one week old now, and maybe he’s gotten even bigger. For the rest, though, he’s just himself. Hair is red, eyes are blue, freckles are everywhere. I’m being forcibly reminded of his uniform initialization in C++—and of his teeth on my skin.

“You made it,” he says, like I really did just get off a jet plane. “You’re here.”

He’s smiling. I smile, too, and furrow my brow. “What? You didn’t think I’d actually graduate?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d ever pass your Water Resources class.”

I burst out laughing. “What? Just because you saw me, with your own eyes, put zero effort into my assignment?”

“That did play a role, yeah.”

“You should read the stuff I BS’d about you in that report.”

“Ah, yes. What STDs did I have to battle to get to where I am today?”

“What STDs did you not?”

He sighs. A throat clears and we both turn— Oh, right. Alexis is also here. Looking between us, for some reason with saucer eyes.

“Oh, Ian, this is Alexis. She’s starting today, too. Alexis, this is—”

“Ian Floyd,” she says, sounding vaguely breathless. “I’m a fan.”

Ian seems vaguely alarmed, as though the idea of having fans befuddles him. Alexis doesn’t seem to notice and asks me, “You two know each other?”

“Ah . . . yeah, we do. We had a . . .” I gesture vaguely. “A thing. Years ago.”

“A thing?” Alexis’s eyes widen even more.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean that kind of thing. We did some kind of—one of those—what are they called . . . ?”