The café settles back into its afternoon drowsiness. I pull out my phone, heart hammering against my ribs as I open my messages.
Me
Hey. So I had an idea for tomorrow.
The three dots appear almost immediately. Ryan must have his phone in hand. The thought sends a warm curl of pleasure through my chest.
Ryan
I’m listening.
Me
Picnic. Just us. There’s this spot at the park. Quiet, good sky view, away from everything.
I watch the dots appear, disappear, appear again. Each second feels like an hour. What if he thinks it’s too forward? What if he wanted something more casual? What if?—
Ryan
That sounds perfect.
My heart doesn’t just jump. It performs an entire gymnastics routine, complete with back handsprings and a dismount that would make the Olympic judges weep.
Ryan
What time?
Me
I’ll pick you up at five. That gives us time to eat before sunset. We can watch the stars, too, if you want.
Ryan
I’ll be ready.
I stare at my phone screen, grinning like an idiot. The professor snorts in his sleep. One of the grad students glances up, notices my expression, and quickly looks away, probably assuming I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I have. Maybe this is what losing your mind feels like when it’s the good kind of loss.
An hour after my shift,the Hockey House kitchen has become a war zone.
“No.” I brandish my butter knife like a weapon, blocking Gerard’s reaching hand. “Absolutely not. Step away from the sandwiches.”
“But I’m hungry!” Gerard whines, his massive frame somehow managing to look pitiful. “And those look so good! Just one little corner.”
“These are for tomorrow. For my picnic with Ryan. You have your own food.”
“The fridge is empty!”
“There’s literally a rotisserie chicken in there. Nathan boughtanother one this morning.”
“That’s Nathan’s chicken! He’ll kill me if I touch it!”
“Then perish.”
Drew materializes at Gerard’s elbow, surveying my spread with the keen eye of a predator assessing prey. I’ve laid out everything on the counter: fresh bread from the bakery, sliced turkey and ham, three kinds of cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and the fancy mustard that costs more than my hourly wage.
“This is adorable,” Drew announces. “You’re making a little picnic for your little boyfriend like a little housewife.”
