I grab my backpack at the door, mug still in my hands, and run down the front steps to Andrew’s truck. The morning is cold and foggy, typical for April. Warm, muggy mornings won’t start for another few weeks, when one day, without warning, summer will arrive in a sweltering haze.

Climbing into the truck, I grunt hello, handing him the mug and watching as he takes a sip, waiting for the inevitable expression of disgust. Instead, he raises his eyebrows.

“This is interesting. What is this?” And then he throws back the mug, slurping down the rest in a few gulps. “Very salad-y. Not sure I would recommend it for breakfast, but thanks.” I should have learned by now that Andrew’s like a human garbage disposal. He hands me back the empty mug, and I take it, careful not to let our fingers touch. I slump down on the seat, reaching to fiddle with the radio, anything to distract myself from the mess I’ve gotten into. I’m mad at myself for being aware of his fingers at all.

He’s rumpled, his hair sticking up in a way that makes it clear he only recently lifted his head from his pillow. His glasses are on, and they’re bent slightly, like he probably just sat on them for the hundredth time. I feel hollow in my stomach as I look at him, and before I can help it, a brief flash pops into my head of what it would be like to kiss him. I begin giggling uncomfortably, feeling my face grow clammy and hot.

Hannah has ruined me.

“So what’s up?” he asks, and then stops when he sees my expression. I haven’t thought of a cover-up lie, a simple innocuous question to ask him instead, and now it’s too late. He fiddles with his glasses, taking them off and then putting them right back on. “Do you want to talk about it now or wait for bacon?”

“Bacon,” I say, still caught in a wave of giggles. He turns the keys in the ignition and the truck rumbles as the engine starts.

“Should I be worried?” he asks, checking behind him before pulling out of the driveway. “You said it was important.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, letting the giggles subside. “It was nothing.” I clear my throat, trying to remain serious. “Just pretend I never texted you.” And then, before I can help it, I burst out into another fit of giggles, this time worse than before.

Andrew drives us to Jan’s, mercifully letting my odd behavior slide. He pulls into a spot out front and we climb out of the truck.