“Josie,” Mom said, “why don’t you go upstairs and sort through that box Auntie Ruth sent from the thrift shop? If you find anything you want, it’s yours.”

As Josie hurried upstairs, my shoulders relaxed. “Thank y—”

“Are you sure it isn’t a date?” Mom asked, setting the essays on the table and putting water in the kettle.

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.

“But are you sure—”

“Does this look like a date outfit to you?” I snapped.

Mom looked me up and down. “I have no idea. Is it supposed to?”

I groaned. “Jude and I are friends, how many times do I have to tell you people that?”

“Well, honey,” Mom said, leaning against the counter. “If he were average-looking, probably only once. But he’s so handsome! It’s just going to take us longer to accept that you aren’t together.” We both froze as a shoe scraped against our walkway. Mom hurried to the window. “He’s wearing a tie,” she informed me.

I grabbed my coat, bolted to the door, and walked out, shutting it resolutely behind me. Jude paused midstep. He was wearing a tie. Goddamn it. “Hey…,” he started, watching me walk briskly past him.

“Just get in the car,” I said. “Trust me.”

When we’d both gotten in, Jude didn’t switch to the Broadway channel like I expected him to. “So how’s your Saturday? What have you been up to?” he asked as I turned out of our neighborhood.

Oh, you know, just having clothing-related freak-outs and telling my family we aren’t dating. “Not much. You?”

“I’ve just been waiting for this,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve got a lot of theories about the Wilis, and I want to see if I’m right. Also, I’m excited to see the programs.”

“Why?”

“I went to the symphony once, and in the program there was a whole section about what to do during intermission. It was like, you can have a conversation! You can go to the bathroom! You can even get a snack! I want to see if these programs give different advice.”

I laughed, but it came out way too loudly, and Jude startled a little. I cleared my throat. “That’s funny.”

I felt Jude watching me. “Hey,” he finally said. “I’m really glad we’re going to this. And if you ever feel like it’s too much, you know I’m here, right? You know you can talk to me about it.”

I squeezed the wheel. Jude thought I was nervous about seeing my old school perform, which was partly true. But he didn’t know how much he contributed to the tension coursing through my body by just sitting there and saying sweet things like that.

“I know,” I said tightly. “Thanks.”