Blake waits downstairs for me for ten minutes while I run into my room to finish dressing. A button-down shirt that plays well off my dark skin, a pair of skinny jeans, a spritz of cologne, and…

“Boots or sneakers?” I ask Clyde. He looks up lazily, flicking his right ear.

“Sneakers it is.”

Downstairs, Blake, Mom, and Dad are sitting at the dining table. Blake went all out in a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black vest, and nice jeans.

“That’s a different outfit than you showed me,” I say. Mom clears her throat and Dad glares. “I mean, you look nice.”

“You think?” Blake asks. He looks down at his boots—I’m glad that I didn’t select mine—and spins around once. “Thanks. I really wasn’t sure what to wear on a date—had a crisis of confidence at the last minute and thought I’d change it up. I knew I was going to have to keep up with you.”

“Careful there, Dre,” Dad says. “This one’s a charmer. Guard your—”

“Dad. That’s enough. We’re going.” I push Blake toward the door, intending to get him out of there as quickly as possible. But before we can cross the threshold, Dad grips my arm, squeezing.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell Blake, who catches on.

Once Blake’s gone, Dad opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

“I know what you’re going to say. Can we just skip—”

“Nope,” he says, handing me my jean jacket from the door. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Dad.”

“Don’t feel forced. This is just a boy. To quote Grey’s Anatomy, which is a god-awful example of hospital procedures—”

“Please don’t. I’m begging you.”

“He’s very dreamy, but he is not the sun.”

“All right,” I say quickly and hug him. “I’m going. I’ll be home by curfew. Goodbye.”

I push my way out and get into Blake’s car.

“Drive. Quickly.”

The zoo is on the other side of town, and since it’s Saturday, the streets are busy. It gives Blake and me time to talk, but for the first fifteen minutes, we both sit in silence.

I’m the one who breaks it.

“So, you were serious about the zoo, huh?”

He glances over but never moves his hands from the ten-and-two position. “Yeah. Is that a problem? Thought it might be nice?”

“Or cute?”

He shrugs. “Both work, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He shrugs again. “There’s a special late-night event. Seeing animals at night—I thought you’d like it. Don’t want to be too cocky. That’s not something you like in a guy, is it?”

“You’d be surprised what I like in a guy. Want a hint?”

“I’m not against playing video games on easy mode, so yes.”