“Unprofessional, but what can you do?” He pulled a frown and I laughed. “Shall we?”

We stepped into the plaza, our shadows stretching endlessly along the flagstones.

“So I haven’t—” I said, as he blurted, “I’m sorry I haven’t—” He chuckled, uneasy. “Go on.”

“I was going to say something along the lines of long time no see.”

“And I was going to say something along the lines of sorry I’m such a hermit asshole stereotype of a musician.”

“Oh, that old expression.” I nudged him with my shoulder while I listened hard for the real answer.

“I’ve been in a fever, all this music coming out since we went to the Cloisters. Since we . . .” He drew a breath and seemed to hold it. I held mine too, remembering a few nights ago. “I needed to orchestrate the first movement and all the pieces seemed to come together.”

“You did all the orchestrations in the past two days? How—?”

“I haven’t really been sleeping?”

Now that I was looking more closely, Oscar seemed thin. His hands were trembling. He caught me looking and shoved them in the pockets of his pants.

Thunder rolled somewhere to the east, the light shifting orange.

“So have you been home this whole time?” I asked. “I would have helped you, you know. I could have brought you food or—”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve got your own life.”

His words were an echo of what he’d said before I went to Nora’s. An echo of Jules’s words too. They heartened and worried me.

We stopped at a crosswalk. A drop of rain hit my head. Oscar looked up as if he could identify the source.

I turned to him, blood pumping. “Okay, so, I really don’t want to be ‘that girl’ and I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, so this might sound like it’s coming out of left field, but what—?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I blinked. “Do I . . . ?”

“I feel like I’m eight. Check one for yes, two for no.” He bit his bottom lip, eyes alight.

“You had girlfriends when you were eight?”

“Elisa Meyers, lasted three days, what’s your answer.”

“Yes.” My voice sounded like I was eight. “Yes, option two, I will be your girlfriend.”

Oscar hugged me tight, his mouth pressed to my forehead, rocking me back and forth. Then he murmured into my ear, “Girlfriend was option one.”

I poked him in the ribs. He laughed and dodged away. The rain started coming down hard. We ran across the street, holding hands, but were already drenched by the time we hit the opposite curb.

“Ack!” I let out a mock-scream, head ducked to avoid the deluge.