She hands him the treat and me the clicker. “Maybe you should do it for a minute.”
“Okay.” I laugh and then keep going, cue and click, click and treat. Nicole watches, her arms folded, but she looks at me with a smile—and not a single mention of the meme.
Should I mention it? Maybe not. Maybe it’s nothing.
“Your turn,” I say, shaking off the thought.
Nicole takes the clicker and then holds up a treat. “Cocoa, sit,” she says, then clicks immediately, even though the dog’s still spinning in circles.
I try to correct her, but she’s laughing too hard to hear me. “Sorry,” she says, giggling. “I got nervous. It’s like a game show buzzer.”
I move closer, showing her how to wait, then click, then treat. Our arms brush, and I ignore the jump in my pulse.
We do another round, and this time she nails it. Cocoa sits, Nicole clicks, and Cocoa gets a treat.
“Nice,” I say, holding up a hand for a high five.
She giggles and slaps her palm against mine a little too hard. “I learn fast.Sometimes.”
We keep going until Cocoa’s energy dwindles to a manageable level, then Nicole drops onto the bench next to my bag, letting out a huge sigh.
“That’s exhausting,” she says, brushing her hair back from her face. “I can’t believe people do this for a living.”
I shrug. “It’s more about patience than skill. You’re getting there.”
She glances at me, then away, then back again. There’s something she wants to say, and she’s working up to it. “Yeah, so…” she starts. “I have to ask. Um, about the, um, meme I sent last night.” Her cheeks flush. “That was … an accident.”
I smirk. “Yeah? An accident, huh?”
She nods, mortified. “I meant to send it to my sister. We… I… It was just… You know, ahot neighborthing.”
“Got it,” I say, dragging the words out just long enough to make her squirm. “So …I’mthe hot neighbor?”
She covers her face. “No… I mean… Yeah. Actually, yeah. You’re the hot neighbor.”
I laugh, tugging at my T-shirt as my face grows hot. “It’s okay. I’m flattered.”
She peeks at me through her fingers, eyes wide. “You’re not mad?”
“Not even a little,” I say. “Honestly, it was the best thing I’ve seen all week. It was nice, Nicole.”
She drops her hands, and now she’s laughing, too. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Promise.” I cross my heart.
We sit, the silence comfortable, Cocoa circling our feet and sniffing at every blade of grass like it might be the secret to the universe.
Nicole glances at Cocoa. “You think he’s a lost cause?”
“Not at all,” I say, reaching down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “Just … high energy. He needs more structure.”
“I guess that’s fair.” She playfully nudges my leg with her knee. “Maybe I do, too.”
It’s the opening I’ve been waiting for, so I go for it. “You should come to a game sometime. See what real structure looks like, you know?”
She laughs, bright and surprised. “I actually already have tickets for Saturday.”
I’m floored. “You’re coming?”
