“Nonsense, come eat,” Vera insists, and this, this is why she picks up so many strays. Vera and her stellar business sense. I mean, people love when they come to get their holds and find out they weren’t sorted yet because everybody was too busy eating takeout, or that their sticky note with new requests was used as a makeshift napkin. I roll my eyes and follow my stepmom anyway, because Chinese food.

Ridley hesitates until I raise my eyebrows, and then he follows. He trips over the little half step between the back room and the store and then squeezes his eyes shut when I giggle. Okay, fine, it’s definitely cute how easily he gets embarrassed. And if I had any extra time to “push the boundaries,” maybe I would spend a little of it finding new and clever ways to make him blush.

But I don’t. I can barely keep up with the boy that lives in my phone. Who still hasn’t texted me since this morning, by the way.

“So?” Vera says, pulling cans of soda and white takeout boxes from the greasy paper bags. “Did our guest pass inspection?”

Ridley watches as I wave my hand in a so-so gesture. “It was touch and go for a minute, but he did all right in the end.”

Vera shakes her head before looking at Ridley. “Jubi doesn’t always trust my judgment when it comes to kids hanging out here. If she’s giving you the all clear, you must be doing something right. Now sit, eat.”

I kick a chair toward him with my foot, and he looks up when it bangs into his shin. “Sit.” I shove my fork into a pile of white rice. “Unless you want me to change my mind about you.”

Vera laughs, reaching for the box of crab rangoon. I smack her hand. “Not until he sits. It’s rude.”

Ridley stares at me for a second, watching the exchange with this sort of confused expression, and then he grabs the chair and slides it back to the table, sitting stiffly upright. His knee bumps into mine, and I feel it bounce up and down a little.

“So,” I say, trying to get him to relax, “what brings your family to Silver Hills?”

Ridley coughs, choking on his egg roll, and I slap him on the back. “Easy, slick.” He’s sweet in an awkward-puppy way. It’s familiar, and strangely comforting.

“Um,” he says finally, when the coughing has subsided. “I’m staying with my dad for a while, so.”

“Oh, is he here in town?”

“Outside of it. In Claremont. He’s got a house there.”

“Wow, fancy. Too bad your dad is such a tightwad about your pull list. I hoped maybe it was just a money thing.”

“Jubilee!” Vera scolds, knocking the rice over in the process. The little bell over the door jingles, saving me from dying of embarrassment.