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I should go. I should keep walking, get to Nonnie’s apartment before the heat zipping back and forth between us cooks my sushi. But instead, I’m frozen, weirdly aware of how close we’re standing in the busy, echoey lobby. My brain does this insane, slow-motion zoom on the depth of his eyes. He’s staring at me like I’m some combination of forbidden fruit and the last cookie in the box. If I don’t escape now, I will absolutely make a fool of myself in ways that cannot be undone. My skin is tingling, and my insides are melting, but my survival instincts kick in. I finally jerk my arm free, holding up the takeout bag like a desperate shield.

“I have to go,” I blurt, voice wobbling. “I’m late for dinner.”

I spin and power-walk down the hall, cheeks blazing, leaving my dignity smoldering in my wake. Before I make it to the elevator, his voice reaches me, low and smug and way too amused.

“We’ll have to run into each other again sometime.”

I turn and give him a little smile. At least it comes off as a smile, then I hop in the elevator like my ass is on fire. When the doors slide shut, I finally allow myself to exhale. God. Sushi Tuesday really took a wild turn.

I let myself into Nonnie’s apartment, hands still shaking and cheeks blazing. My brain is busy replaying the collision in the lobby on a ten-second loop. That jaw. Those hands. That voice. I might actually combust.

Nonnie pops her head around the corner, blue eyes sharp and a little worried. “Hazel! I was starting to think you’d forgotten about Sushi Tuesday.”

I close the door behind me and try to act normal, which is hilarious, because I’m pretty sure my grandmother isn’t going to fall for my act.

She’s already got her arms crossed, one eyebrow doing that skeptical Nonnie thing. I set the sushi on the kitchen counter and try to keep it casual, even though I’m still vibrating like a hummingbird on cold brew.

“Sorry, Nonnie,” I say, peeling myself out of my sweaty shoes and setting them on the rack in the front hall closet. “The last patron at the library would not leave. Then I stopped for sushi and…” I trail off, heat rising in my cheeks as my brain replays Mr. Wall-of-Man in the lobby, all suit and smirk and hands. I cough. “I kinda ran into somebody downstairs. Literally. But I survived.” Her eyes narrow, and I see the matchmaking engines firing up behind her smile. Abort. Abort. Time for a quick change of subject. “So, how was your day?” I ask, yanking open the fridge. I find my favorite flavored water sitting right in front and grab a can. Nonnie’s already on my case, eyes twinkling behind her glasses, like she knows exactly what kind of chaos I tripped over downstairs.

“My day was good, honey. I beat Aggie at gin rummy and finally convinced the super to fix the light in the laundry room. But never mind me.” She zeroes in, all laser focus and grandmotherly menace. “Who’d you run into? And why are you blushing like you just got caught with your hands in the cookie jar?”

Oh my God. I try for casual, but my voice comes out two octaves too high. “It was nothing.”

Nonnie isn’t buying it for a second.

She pads over, crossing her arms, pinning me with that full-grandmother death stare. “Hazel, darling, when you say ‘nothing’ in that squeaky voice, it’s always something. Spill.”

“Nothing to spill,” I mutter while busying myself with unpacking our dinner. Chopsticks. Tiny soy sauce packets. The ceremonial placement of the spicy mayo. Maybe if I move fast enough, I can distract her with spicy tuna rolls.

Nope. Not happening.

Nonnie just leans on the counter like a detective in a cashmere cardigan, watching me with her “all-seeing” eyes. “Uh-huh.” Oh, man. I’m in big trouble. I need to get things under control.

“Okay.” I pop a dumpling into my mouth and chew, giving myself a few moments’ reprieve. She watches me patiently as I swallow. “Here’s the whole story.” Or at least as much as I can tell my grandmother. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I accidentally ran into one of your neighbors.” At least I think he lives in the building. Who knows? “He caught me before I could fall, and I thanked him.”

“And?” Nonnie uses her grandmotherly laser stare to wear me down.

But I hold strong. “And nothing.” I cross my fingers behind my back. “I apologized, and that was it.” Well, mostly it. Okay. It was a little bit of what happened.

I try to look innocent, but my cheeks are telling the real story. I’m sweating guilt.

Nonnie just keeps staring, her mouth twitching like she wants to laugh, but she’s holding out for maximum effect. “Hazel Rose Winslet. You’re a terrible liar. Did you get his number at least?”

My chopsticks freeze mid-air. “It wasn’t like that. He was just… being polite.” Sort of. If polite means holding on to my arm like he owns me while looking at me like I’m the last cupcake at a kids’ birthday party.

She shrugs, totally unimpressed by my effort. “If you say so.”

I let out this stupid nervous noise and focus on the sushi, like spicy tuna is going to save me from Nonnie’s radar.

She just grins, all smug grandmother, then sits down and pours us jasmine tea like she didn’t just psychoanalyze me for sport. “So, I guess he was super hot?”

I almost choke on my dumpling. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my grandmother, but he was smoking hot. Every detail of his hotness is burned into my retinas for life. My insides do another mortifying backflip, and my cheeks go hot again.

“Uh. Yeah. He was…” I wave my chopsticks helplessly. “Really hot.” No use trying to get one past her.

Nonnie’s already dialing up the sass. “And?”

“And… really—that’s it. Really hot and tall.” I shove another piece of tuna roll into my mouth. Chew. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t admit you could describe the exact width of his shoulders from memory. “That’s all there is to tell you.”