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Her point is rational and very likely what would happen. We have opposite schedules. If I really needed to, I could eat lo mein in my room for a few weeks.

“Now.” She slaps her hands down on the counter. “What’s the best that can happen? You fall madly in love, get married, have three kids, and get a goldendoodle.”

This suggestion paints a picture even more unlikely than Mackenzie laughing in my face.

“We’re not going to get married. I’m leaving for school. I’ll be overseas for at least two years. If we did get together, it would be temporary…”

Suddenly, I begin to regret coming down here this morning. What was I even thinking? I am leaving in under three months. That’s barely enough time to start a relationship, and definitely not one that could last two years of long distance. My studies are going to be intense. I can’t have a boyfriend to distract me, and I don’t want one.

Koko claps her hands together. “We clearly have our answer.”

I know I do, although the way she is grinning at me makes me think our answers are not the same.

“Three months of hot roommate sex,” Koko declares, clarifying what I clearly needed to be clarified. “That’s the best part of a relationship anyway,” she continues. “When you can’t keep your sweaty hands off each other. Then there’s the park sex and car sex, and pool table at the Horseshoe Tavern sex.”

I know the pool table she’s referring to. I will not be having sex on it.

“Then you get to head on your merry way when things start to fizzle out.” Koko leans forward, resting her chin in her palms. “The moment you realize you hate his going-out pants or how his spoon always clanks on his teeth when he eats soup, you’re on a plane heading over the ocean. No hard feelings.”

She holds up her hands as if she’s just presented irrefutable evidence. “Now go on.” She shoos me with her hands. “Get going. You really don’t have much time to waste. Gotta pack that magical new love sex in while you can.”

I pick up my coffee and head for the door, not because I’m rushing to share my feelings but because I know an easy out when I see one.

“Uh…thanks for the talk,” I say to her as I push the door open.

She smiles. “Any time, my friend. Any time.”

• • •

When I get out to the sidewalk, I stand there for a good five minutes, needing fresh air and a few moments to work up the nerve before returning to the apartment.

When my hands and feet begin to feel the chill of the cold October morning, I head back upstairs, pausing at my front door to listen for sounds inside.

I can hear music and Mackenzie’s voice singing along to what sounds like a country song.

I worry the moment I open the door, he’ll take one look at my face, and the choice will be out of my hands. Whether I want him to or not, he’ll know exactly how I feel.

I turn the knob, and the door swings open. Mackenzie’s eyes meet mine from across the room, and he smiles in a way that his entire face lights up.

“Hey,” I say, knowing my face is giving every one of my feelings away.

He rushes toward me. “I have the best news. I just got off the phone with Zee. I don’t know if you’ve heard of the band the Rydells, but they’re on tour right now, and the band that was supposed to open for them broke up over the weekend. They’ve asked Midnight Station to fill in.” He picks me up and spins me around, and when he sets me back down again, our bodies are so close I can see the tiny crumb from his breakfast toast still clinging to his stubble. “These guys are supposed to be the next big thing. There’s like three labels fighting for them right now. Zee says there’s going to be producers at one of our shows, maybe more.”

“Wow.” I try my absolute best to match his excitement. “Congratulations. That’s amazing.”

He runs his hands through his hair, literally bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Thanks. I knew this was all going to work out. I just had this gut feeling, but then I wasn’t sure, and I started doubting everything, and now I know…I gotta go call my brother.”

The rest of the details come out in hurried spurts over the next two hours as Mackenzie packs his bags and finalizes details over the phone with Zee. The Rydells are on a twelve-week tour. The band that was supposed to be opening for the northeastern leg, Bingo Jerry and the Rumpled Teasers, got into a major fight when the drummer hooked up with the bass’s ex, who also happens to be the lead singer’s sister. Mackenzie will be gone for four weeks, playing ten of the thirty shows in five cities in upstate New York, northern Ohio, and eastern Michigan.

He leaves tonight.

“I sent you next month’s rent,” he says as he slings his duffel bag onto the pile next to the door, which also includes his backpack and guitar case. “And I’ll keep in touch while we’re on the road.”

He comes to stand in front of me. His eyes drop to something below my neckline, but I can’t tell if that’s just a reflex or if my T-shirt is doing weird things again. I look down just in time to see his fingers flex and his weight shift from his heels to his toes. Now, I think he might be going in for a hug but is waiting for me to give some indication or signal that I am going to meet him halfway. I almost do it. My arms come up, and I lean in, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second…and then I chicken out, pivoting on my toes and retreating to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a Tupperware container in my hands.

“I have something for you.”

He doesn’t need to open it. He knows what’s inside. “But it’s your favorite.”