“No, this is amazing. I’m just … that quilt is so beautiful. I don’t think I should sit on it. It looks brand-new.” The fabric was still crisp and bore creases where it had been folded.

Shepley puffed out his chest. “My mom made it. She’s made dozens. She made this for me when I graduated. It’s a replica.” His cheeks flushed.

“Of what?”

As soon as I asked the question, he winced.

I tried not to smile. “It’s a bigger version of your childhood blankie, isn’t it?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

I sat down on the quilt and crossed my legs, patting the space beside me. “C’mere.”

“I’m not sure I can. I think I just died of embarrassment.”

I looked up at him, squinting one eye from the beam of sunlight escaping through the tree leaves above. “I have a blankie, too. Murfin is in my dorm room—under my pillow.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he sat down, placing the basket in front of him. “Blake.”

“Blake?”

“I guess I tried to say ‘blank,’ and it turned into Blake along the way.”

I smiled. “I like that you didn’t lie.”

He shrugged, still embarrassed. “I’m not very good at it anyway.”

I leaned in, nudging his shoulder with mine. “I like that, too.”

Shepley beamed and then opened the basket, pulling out a covered plate of cheese and crackers and then a bottle of zinfandel and two plastic champagne flutes.

I stifled a laugh, and Shepley chuckled.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just … this is the cutest date I’ve ever been on.”

He poured the zin. “Is that a good thing?”

I spread Brie on a cracker and took a bite, nodding, and then a little sip of wine to wash it down. “You definitely get an A for effort.”

“Good. I don’t want it to be so cute that I’ll be friend-zoned,” he said, almost to himself.

I licked the cracker and wine from my lips, looking at his. The air between us changed. It was heavier … electric. I leaned toward him, and he made a failed attempt to hide the surprise and excitement in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked.

His eyebrows shot up. “You wanna … you wanna kiss me?” He looked around. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Shepley blinked. “I’ve just, um … never had a girl …”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He quickly shook his head. “Definitely not what I’m feeling right now.”

He cupped my cheek and pulled me in without a second hesitation. I immediately opened my mouth, tasting the wetness of the inside of his lips. His tongue was soft and warm and tasted like sweet mint.

I hummed, and he pulled away.

“Let’s, um … I made sandwiches. Do you like ham or turkey?”

I touched my lips, smiling, and then forced a straight face. Shepley looked positively flustered in the best possible way. He handed me a wax paper–wrapped square, and I carefully pinched a corner, pulling until I saw white bread.