* * *

Doug drives us back to the shop, and we get there right before closing. Tobin’s shoulders slump with relief as soon as he sees us. Nick sends him home after we’re done cleaning, leaving the two of us to lock up.

“Thanks for letting me come with you guys tonight,” I say. “It was . . .”

“Boring?”

“No,” I say, grabbing my bag. “I really loved it. Doug and Shivan are great.”

Nick sighs, as if he’s reluctantly admitting something. “They are.”

“I never thought your friends would be . . . bros,” I say. “Actually, I never thought about you having friends.”

“Thanks,” Nick snorts.

“I mean . . . I don’t know, you don’t seem to enjoy talking to people.”

“I enjoy talking to some people,” Nick says, and I ignore the subtext in his comment.

“How did you guys meet?” I ask, pulling on my jacket, then leaning against the counter.

“We were roommates in college,” Nick says. “Random assignment. When I walked into my room freshman year, Doug had already put up a giant motivational poster about missing one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, and I almost turned around and went back home.”

“But then you were deeply inspired by that poster, right?”

“I was not. But eventually, even though Doug and Shivan were always talking about leg day and carb-loading and knew so much more about drinking than I’d ever learned in my nerdy, sheltered childhood . . . I figured out that they were good guys. They made me leave the dorm, even go to some parties.”

Wistfully, I say, “I so wish I could see young Nick at a kegger. Did you stand in the corner with your arms crossed, wishing the music were more depressing?”

Nick points at me. “It’s like you were there.”

“Well, they seem nice.”

Nick shrugs. “They are nice.”

After years of knowing Nick but not even knowing about the best friends he’s had since college, now I’m curious to learn more. “What was your major?”

“Philosophy.”

“Ohhhhh,” I say, nodding my head. “So you’ve always been like this.”

He looks at me, eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I smile.

“Anyway, uh.” Nick grabs his jacket. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For coming tonight. It was . . . fun. To have you there.” He clears his throat and doesn’t meet my eyes.

I’m glad he’s not looking at me, because this innocuous statement makes me start to blush.

“Yeah,” I say softly as we walk out the door and Nick locks up. “It was a good time.”

It was the best time I’ve had in a long time and a rare opportunity to get out of my own head for a minute . . . but it also made me wonder how much I don’t know about Nick Velez.

Chapter Eleven

“What are you doing this weekend?”

I look up from my business management textbook and blink a few times. It’s Wednesday evening and hardly anyone’s in, which means prime homework time as long as Annie’s not around to distract me (and she rarely is anymore). And I know I’ve been in a business management haze, but I could swear I heard Nick ask what I was doing this weekend.