“I do, and they’re invaluable. But this is CME—continuing medical education—that I have to log in order to maintain my license and remain qualified to practice medicine.” He clears his throat. “At any rate, this coming week is incredibly busy for me. With the bowling outing ahead of us, which I assume we’ll be attending—”

“Oh, we’re attending,” I tell him. “Are you any good?”

He lifts a shoulder. Lord, even his shrugs are neat. “I’m passable.”

“Excellent. Then we won’t have to cheat.”

His mouth twitches with another almost smile. “We won’t have to cheat, no. Not that I know how one cheats at bowling. But if we want a prayer of passing as a burgeoning couple and not just a solid bowling duo, this might be my only night to solidify our approach because of the busy week ahead. I apologize, it’s not always this way.”

“Jamie, it’s okay. I’m not . . .” I glance around and lower my voice because knowing our luck, if I were loud, Jules and Jean-Claude would jump out of the canned goods shelf and bust our plan. “I’m not really your girlfriend. You don’t owe me time or explanations.”

He glances away. “Right. I only meant . . . That is . . . What I meant—”

I don’t know why I reach out toward him, except that I feel guilty, like maybe I misread him, or he’s misread me. He’s struggling with this conversation. If anyone can empathize, it’s me.

As an autistic person, I work my ass off to function in a social system that is not intuitive. A system whose patterns I have had to learn and do my best to observe without breaking myself. It’s harder with new, unfamiliar people, but it’s even hard sometimes with the people I know and love. Some days, no matter who it is, I struggle, not unlike the way it seems Jamie’s struggling now.

So I reach out, and my fingers brush his. I clasp his hand in mine, squeezing gently. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you down there. You were being considerate, explaining yourself. I shouldn’t crap on that.”

The tension in his shoulders dissolves. “I don’t want you to think I expect you to bend around my schedule. It’s not always this demanding.”

The kindness of his words jolts me. I pull away and form fists with my hands, as if that will extinguish the sparks dancing beneath my skin. “Thanks, I appreciate that. But so you know, everyone at the stationery shop is pretty nice about changing shifts and covering each other in a pinch, so I have flexibility. I don’t mind working around your schedule when you need me to.”