He cleared his throat. “Uh, sure.” Dean scooted closer to her, sitting cross legged behind her. He flashed my dad a quick smile, then rubbed his palms together for a bit. “Gotta warm the hands up. It’s good for… circulation.”

“Right,” my dad said, nodding and watching with intense interest, as if he was about to observe a master class on massage theory.

I suddenly wished I could snap my fingers and teleport out of this situation.

Instead of doing what a normal person would do and actually massaging my mom’s shoulders, Dean opened with a series of little karate chops. Worse, he was making a breathy “Hyah” sound with every other chop.

Despite how horrified I was, I found myself covering my mouth, trying not to sputter with laughter.

My dad’s eyebrows were up.

For a few long seconds, my mom made no sign of reacting. Then she finally let out a satisfied sigh. “Wow,” she said. “That’s so nice.”

Dean looked at me, clearly baffled but relieved. Instead of stopping while he was ahead, he formed two fists and stuck out his index finger, then started jabbing her with small punching motions. He kept up with the sound effects, too.

My mom groaned with relief, rolling her neck to the side to give him better access. “Oh, Earl. You’ll have to learn this. Can you teach him, Dean?”

“Sure,” Dean said.

The massage went on for a few more minutes until Zack Ashford walked over.

“Giving free massages?” he asked. “You were holding out on me, Slater. Can I get in line?”

Dean shrugged. “Um. Sure?”

Half an hour later, Dean was still massaging people with his ridiculous karate chops, finger pokes, and even a new move he invented on the fly where he spread his fingers, bent them, then rolled them around people’s backs. The worst part was that every move he came up with had to have its own sound effect. No, scratch that. The worst part was nobody seemed to find it anywhere near as hilarious as I did. It left me sitting there, watching and trying desperately not to die with laughter each time he invented a new move.

I was coming to learn that everything Dean did in life just worked. If he didn’t know how to fix cars, it was fine. He could watch a few videos on the internet and become an expert. If he wanted to give a speech without a plan, he’d kill it. Give a dozen people massages without any experience at all? No problem, he’d figure it out on the fly and magically be amazing at it.

It probably should’ve been irritating, but it just seemed to hollow me out until I thought a stiff breeze would’ve whistled right through me.

I liked Dean. I really did. Like probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Dean made me want to take the heart I’d been so carefully guarding and shove it into his hands while begging him to take it. I wanted to just be happy with him. I wanted it so badly it hurt, which was why it stung even more that he didn’t want to take it.