Ruby scrunched her face up in a show of sympathy. “Let’s distract you, then. If we’re agreed on continuing with the montage, let’s think of other things we can do.”

“I’m relying on your expertise here,” I said, opening a note file on my phone. “We’ve done the funfair. What else have you got?”

Ruby flipped her hair over, thinking.

“Frolicking?” she offered finally, her tongue absently toying with her lip ring.

I cleared my throat, thinking of how to respond to a word I’d never heard anyone use in real life.

“Frolicking?” I said. “You just made that up.”

“No, I didn’t. It’s where the couple engage in scenes of playful . . . frolicking.”

I raised both eyebrows (because I can’t do one at a time). “I’m gonna need an example. This sounds dubious.”

“10 Things I Hate About You,” she said immediately. “The scene at the paintball place.”

“I haven’t seen it.” I shrugged.

Ruby’s eyes bugged.

“I know you said you weren’t into rom-coms, but that’s just weird. OK—if I have to supply all the ideas, then you have to actually watch the films they come from. We’ll add them to the list. Maybe you won’t be so surprised next time something obvious happens, like a Ferris wheel breaking down.”

She looked giddy at the idea that I would have to sit and watch all her favorite movies, and I had to admit I wanted to see the smile on her face when I agreed.

“Oh all right then,” I agreed.

She beamed. There it was.

“Oh, I know what’s next. Meaningful eye contact.”

“Frolicking and eye contact?” I shook my head, but I typed it anyway.

“There is always serious meaningful eye contact in a montage. That’s how you know there’s sexual tension,” she explained.

“I mean, you’re not wrong, but it’s not really a date. We can do that anytime.”

“Exactly. We should do it now. Check it off nice and quick.” She had a look on her face that I was beginning to classify as her “mischief” face. She’d had it when we jumped off the wall. She’d had it when she invited me up to her room. In fairness, it had brought me pretty good things so far.

“You want to have meaningful eye contact with me now?”

“Sure.”

“Shouldn’t it be, I dunno, more natural?”

“You’re OK with a list of dates and a prearranged breakup, but we can’t schedule meaningful eye contact?”

“No, no, you’re right.” I held up my hands in surrender.

“Now remember, you’re going to have to hold the eye contact for at least ten seconds,” she said.

“This is silly. I can’t keep a straight face and do this.”