Slipping my feet into my shoes, I held my cell between my cheek and shoulder. “Nah. I’m taking Avery out to dinner. I guess if we get back—”

“No explanation needed. I don’t blame you.” He sounded bored, not with me, but with the whole scene. There was a pause. “Your girl doesn’t seem like the type who’s into the party scene.”

I got hung up on the phrase “your girl” and the rush of pride it sent through me for what was probably a second too long. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Jase chuckled softly. “She’s turned you into a changed man, hasn’t she?”

I smiled as I grabbed my keys. Jase might be right. Since I’d met Avery in August, a lot of my habits had changed, even more so during the weeks following fight night. “Something like that.”

“Well, have fun. Don’t impregnate her.”

A laugh burst from me. “Jase, man, come on . . .”

He chuckled again. “I’m kidding.”

Rolling my eyes, I said my good-byes and headed over to Avery’s.

We had a quick dinner in Martinsburg and then headed back to her apartment. I made a pit stop and picked up Raphael, letting him roam around Avery’s kitchen for a bit. The little guy needed his exercise after all. And Shortcake seemed to enjoy picking him up and turning him around in the other direction, so that he shuffled his way back and forth between us. This wasn’t something I ever thought I’d be doing on a Saturday night, but I wasn’t bored or wanting to be anywhere else. Truth be told, I was having more fun doing this than I ever had at one of the frat parties.

“It’s a terrarium,” I corrected her when she called his habitat an aquarium. “And he has a rocking terrarium. Got him a new one for his birthday.”

“You know when his birthday is?” She grinned.

“Yep. July twenty-sixth.” Speaking of such . . . “When is your birthday?”

“Uh, you have a while until you have to worry about that.” She crossed her ankles. “When’s yours?”

“June fifteenth.” I would not be deterred. “When is yours, Avery?”

She sighed. “It was January second.”

“I missed your birthday?” My brows rose as I leaned forward.

“It’s not a big deal.” She shrugged. “I went to the Smithsonian and then I got sick, so it’s probably a good thing you weren’t around.”

Went to the Smithsonian . . . ? It struck me then and I felt like an ass. “Aw, man, that’s why you said you wanted to go there on the second. You were alone? Shit. I feel so —”

“Don’t,” she said, raising her hand. “You don’t need to feel terrible. You didn’t do anything wrong.”