"Shane..." I pulled the blanket tighter around me. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because." I struggled to find the words. "We said friends. And dinner out feels like..."
"Like what?"
"Like more."
The line went quiet. I could hear him breathing, steady and patient, waiting for me, the way he always did.
"It can be whatever you want it to be," he said finally. "Friends have dinner. Friends go to restaurants. I'm not trying to push you into anything, Maya. I just want to spend time withyou somewhere that isn't your apartment. Somewhere you can relax and not worry about dishes or grading or being a mom for a few hours." Another pause. "You deserve that. Even if you don't believe it."
My chest ached.
"One dinner," I said. "That's it."
"That's it." I could hear the smile in his voice. "I’m off this Friday. I'll pick you up at seven?"
"Okay. Friday at seven."
"It's not a date," he said. "Unless you want it to be."
"Goodnight, Shane."
He laughed, low and soft. "Goodnight, Maya."
I hung up. I lay there in the dark, phone warm against my chest, my heart beating too fast for midnight.
What had I just agreed to?
Millie arrived at six-thirty, practically buzzing with excitement.
"This is so romantic," she said, dropping her backpack on the couch. "He's taking you on a real date."
"It's not a date."
"Maya." She gave me a look that was far too knowing for a sixteen-year-old. "He's picking you up. He made reservations. You're wearing a dress."
I looked down at myself. The dress was navy blue, simple, the nicest thing I owned. I'd bought it three years ago for a parent-teacher conference and worn it exactly twice. I’d spent forty-five minutes deciding whether to wear it tonight, telling myself it didn’t matter—this wasn’t a date, I was just going to dinner with a friend.
I'd worn it anyway.
"It's just dinner," I said weakly.
Millie smiled. "Sure it is."
Zoe emerged from her room, took one look at me, and immediately rolled her eyes. "You look nice, Mom. Stop freaking out."
"I'm not freaking out."
"You changed your earrings three times. I could hear you from my room."
I had changed my earrings three times. The first pair was too fancy. The second pair was too casual. The third pair was the same as the first, which I'd put back on because apparently I'd lost the ability to make simple decisions.
The knock at the door made my stomach flip.
"I'll get it," Zoe said, already moving. She pulled open the door and looked Shane up and down with the critical assessment only a thirteen-year-old could manage. "You clean up okay."
