There’s a glint in her eyes. She ignores the handkerchief. “You…you…”

She grabs a handful of noodles resting between her cleavage, and I watch as she hefts the handful and smashes it into my chest.

I look down at it in surprise. Her eyes light with satisfied glee.

Behind her, I hear Gavin begin to laugh.

“I won’t dignify that with a response,” I say.

She smirks, grabs of glob of sauce from her collar bone, and smashes it against my cheek.

Gavin’s laugh is full belly now. “Having fun, Will?”

I ignore him. “That wasn’t nice.”

Jessie grins at me, and I’m so distracted by it that I don’t see her reach around and smack a handful of spaghetti against the back of my head. It runs down my collar under my shirt. I jerk back in shock. Jessie watches my expression, then it seems she can’t hold it back anymore, because she begins to laugh. I feel a smile form as I watch her wipe tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Here.” I hold up the handkerchief and gently wipe away the streaks of tomato sauce and happy tear tracks from her face. I carefully draw the fabric over her skin. She stands quiet and still, her eyes watchful.

Gavin clears his throat. “I’ll help get this cleaned up. You two should head out and get changed.”

It seems that Jessie suddenly remembers where we are and that she’s trying to impress Gavin. Her face flushes as red as the tomato sauce.

“No. I mean, I’ll stay—”

I cut her off. “You’re right, Gavin. Thanks.”

I grab Jessie’s purse and her arm and pull her to the front door.

“But…but…” she protests. When we make it to the sidewalk she spins out of my arm and shakes her finger at me. “You’re unbelievable.”

I raise my hands. “Me? Why? I’m just doing what I told you I’d do.”

She stares at me, mouth open, dumbstruck. Not for long though.

“This isn’t what friends do,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow. “I disagree. Friends save each other from making stupid decisions.”

She turns away and starts marching down the street away from the restaurant. I follow her. Her spine straightens when she hears me.

“He’s not interested in you. Couldn’t you tell?”

“No.” She turns toward me and a noodle slides off her and lands on the sidewalk. “I couldn’t tell because you interrupted. He may have been interested, he may have felt that spark, but you sabotaged it.”

I throw my hands up. “For crying out loud. He was telling you the story of how he met his fiancée. That is the epitome of a man who is not interested.”