We stopped outside my place—our place, Jesus—and I slid my hands over his taut waist, around to his back, tilting my chin for more.

But he drew away, eyes hesitant. “I guess I should have considered this earlier . . .”

My skin went hot. How far did he think we would take this tonight?

“Um. Is your dad gonna be okay with this? You . . . and me . . .” He peered up at the darkened windows of the townhouse.

My mind spun, stopped, spun in the other direction. “Why would he care?”

“His daughter. I mean, you’re a Chertok, and I’m . . .” Oscar stepped back, out of reach, running his hands over his hair. “Do you know how he might feel about this? The thing is, I really don’t want to cross a line and mess up what I’ve got going with him. This mentorship. It’s pretty much the best thing that’s ever happened to me and—”

“Oh.” Oh. Oh. Oh. I crossed my arms, my skin blanketing with goose bumps, the sidewalk glazing ice-solid, leaves falling dead from the trees. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s a problem, certainly not one I’ve ever butted up against before, ha, but . . .”

What was I thinking, hijacking him like this? I should have stuck with the original plan, dust sheets, blinders on. I was not why he was here and he was—

“Wait.” Oscar reached out. “Ruby . . .”

I stepped up. Onto my stoop. “No, you’re right! We—we shouldn’t. This summer’s so important. For you, and . . . yeah. Tonight was fun, but it’s cool, I completely get it! Have a good night.”

I hurried into the house before the careful, casual expression on my face could melt into sludge.

Then I stood with my back against the closed door, heart thudding, brain a stuck dance track, shouting, What. Did. You. Just. Do.

13.

jules looked surprised to find me waiting when she trotted down the front steps of her building in running gear the next morning.

“Thought you’d be sleeping in,” she said, making it sound filthy. She stooped to pick up an ankle and bend it to her butt.

I tried to copy her, wobbled, gave up. “No, I had a hard time sleeping and—”

“Does he snore?” A grin broke through her poker face.

I whacked her with the back of my hand. “Shut up! I slept alone. Totally alone.” My throat went tight. “Anyway, I need a run.”

A wild gesture from an oncoming pedestrian drew my attention—Sam, of all people, jogging comically toward us, dressed in a cobbled collection of regular clothes that kind of looked like you could exercise in them, complete with a pair of beat-up Chucks.

The unfair thing was, of the three of us, she looked like the real runner.

“I’ve been curious!” she chirped. “I wanna try it too.”

“Yay!” I clapped.