“Switch with me,” he says. He grips my hand and starts to pull me forward.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” I adjust my stance to stand firmly in front of him but now there’s only a foot of space between us. I’m also trying to pretend I’m not entirely aware that he’s still touching my hand.

“Come on, let’s just switch.” He gives me another light pull and I decide to go with it, moving forward into his place while he takes my former spot. If Jason’s work friend bumps into him next, he’ll find a six-foot-two wall. Ryan doesn’t seem to mind, though. He never did. He used to do the same thing in college. If we were ever at a crowded bar, he always positioned himself in such a way to block any overly boisterous party guests from bumping into me. It was sweet back then, and, unfortunately, it still is now.

“Look, let’s both just take a break for a second,” he says. “It’s obvious neither of us is thrilled to see each other, but for Jason and Cristina’s sake, I’m sure we can make it through one night in the same room.”

“Fine,” I agree, suspicious but willing.

“And if you’re worried that I’m going to lose my mind and beg you to take me back like I did when I was a kid, rest assured, I’ve moved on.”

I’m not sure if his words are meant to cut, but I still feel a sting.

“Glad to hear it,” I say simply.

Ryan claps his hands together in front of him. “In other news, you look well.”

“Thanks,” I answer. As someone who uses all of their money to buy books instead of clothes, this little black dress was a splurge for me. It’s off the shoulder, smooth as silk and the boning inside makes me appear much smaller than my usual size eight. That made the price tag easier to accept. I was paying for skinny fashion sorcery.

I even got my hair and makeup done. My deep brown hair, normally pin straight, is curled into soft waves, and my makeup looks alluring but tasteful. The whole beautification process was genuinely fun until I told the makeup artist that I didn’t own foundation. The woman looked so offended, I half expected her to slap me across the face with a glove and challenge me to a duel.

“You also look...healthy,” I eventually add. Ryan’s eyes scrunch up at my choice of compliment, sparking me to go on. “And old. You look healthy and old.”

“All right,” he says, looking down at his impressive leather watch, “and our cease-fire lasted a whole ten seconds.”