Nick holds out his hands. “Separate hotel rooms. I’m not . . . whoa. This isn’t—”

“I knew that,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Obviously. Duh.”

“Duh.”

“Okay. So . . . leaving on Saturday morning?”

“Yep. Staying there Saturday night.”

I nod a few times, chewing on my lip, like I’m thinking this over. Because, frankly, I should say no. I need to keep a wide physical distance between Nick and me, not spend hours with him in a truck while traveling to another state. Everyone knows that all bets are off when you cross state lines.

“You don’t have to,” Nick says. “But it would be helpful for me, to get your opinion—”

“Can I think about it overnight?” I ask, my voice strangely high-pitched.

“Yeah, sure,” Nick says quickly.

“Okay.” I smile. “Um . . .”

I don’t know how to end this conversation, and Nick is just staring at me, so I hold out a hand for a high five.

Nick looks at it skeptically. “What are you doing?”

“I’m high-fiving you. Totally normal way to conclude a conversation.”

“I’m not really a high-five kind of person,” Nick mutters.

I grab his wrist, ignoring the zing that zaps through me as I do, and smack his palm against mine. “Looks like you are now, dude.”

He doesn’t move his hand, and we stand there, our hands raised in the air, palms touching like we’re in a still shot from an awkward couples yoga video.

My phone buzzes from under the counter and I yank my hand back as if his hand is the top of a hot stove.

It’s Mikey Danger. Hey.

Somehow, I’m not surprised that Mikey Danger texts like this. Everything new I find out about him supports my initial hypothesis, which is that he is about as uncomplicated as it gets.

I put my phone down to ask Nick more about the coffee convention, but when I look up, he’s gone.

* * *

After his eloquent opening text, Mikey and I make plans to get together on Thursday night, since I’m not working. He invites me to his place, and as soon as I step in the door, I regret not suggesting my place. For starters, because his kitchen is so full of empty pizza boxes that I can barely step inside. But also because Milo.

“Hello, sister,” he says, narrowing his eyes when he sees me.

“A pleasure to see you, brother.”

He lowers his voice and leans in. “What are you doing?”

My hands stop moving. “I’m breaking down pizza boxes so I can put them in the recycling container outside.”

“No, I mean . . . Well, yes, sure, keep doing that, we’re living in filth over here. I mean what are you doing hanging out with Mikey Danger?”

I open my mouth, mock-offended. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to live with him, but I can’t hook up with him? Double standard much?”

“Nice try, but I’m not putting my tongue in his mouth. It’s a little different.”