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Omar shoved his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Actually, that was objectively rude.”

“It was.”

“Then let me apologize.”

“All right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Accepted.”

I blinked. “That was easy.”

“Did you want a punishment?” My entire body went still at that word, and Omar quickly added, “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t.”

Interesting. He didn’t tell me I misunderstood. Didn’t tell me I was sensitive. Didn’t laugh harder and force me to laugh too. He just corrected himself. I didn’t know what to do with that.

Omar nodded towards the porch beside the equipment shed. “Can I sit?”

“It’s a free country.”

“Not always.”

I snorted and he sat on the step. I stayed standing. Then realized that made this weird so I sat too, leaving a respectable amount of space between us.

Omar glanced at the skirt. “You really wore that for the kids?”

“For one.”

“Trevor?”

My eyes narrowed. “How do you know Trevor?”

“I’ve been helping with the church donations for three summers. He’s been here twice before but I’ve never seen him so… himself.”

“Hmm.”

“Protective of that one, huh?”

“Extremely.”

“I noticed.”

I picked at a loose thread on the hem. “He wanted to try it.”

“The cheer thing?”

“Maybe. He won’t say.”

Omar nodded. “So you did it first.”

“Somebody had to. Kid needs to know his shadow can’t hurt him.”