“How far?”

“Miami.”

“I knew I should have packed his beach tent.” I give Ryan a pleading look and he finally starts to put on his pants. “All right, we’re going,” he says indulgently. “How long do you think your mom will stay?”

“I have no idea. I’ll call you when you can come back.” I proceed to rush through the room like a tornado, looking for anything I need to hide. Ryan’s bag, his clothes, his watch on my windowsill—they all need to go.

“Do you even have my phone number saved?” I hear him ask.

I grab my cell phone from the bed, unlocking the screen and tossing it to him. “Program it in for me.”

He takes the phone and disappears into the living room as I check the bathroom. It’s clear. I dart into the living room next and Ryan is sitting on the reading chair, tying the laces of his sneakers.

“Not to stress you out further, but is there a reason why you’re getting so worked up over this?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, barely sparing him a glance as I start tidying up the space as fast as humanly possible. “I just need everything to look perfect. My apartment is one of the few things my mom actually likes about me.”

I’m in such a state that I don’t notice Ryan getting up. I actually almost forget he’s there until he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face him.

“Okay, I need you to take a breath for a second.”

“I don’t have time—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says cutting me off. “Just one breath, a deep one, looking at me. Ready, set, deep breath...”

He takes a long inhale and I find myself involuntarily doing the same, feeling my heartbeat slow down just the slightest bit.

“Now talk to me,” he says. “Why are you freaking out?” His hands are still on my shoulders and are now applying comforting squeezes. It’s nice. Really nice.

I force myself to stay put for one more second even though I’m still wondering if I should just stiff-arm him and move on. “It’s hard to explain things with my mom. She’s amazing and she’s given everything she’s had to taking care of Jen and me, but she’s also very critical, particularly of me. And as much as I pretend like I don’t care, I want to impress her. I always want to impress her but no matter what I do, she always finds fault with me.”

“What else could she possibly find fault with? Besides you being a blanket hog and a terrible judge of men’s dance skills, you’re close to perfect.”