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“It’s weird, right?” I asked, climbing onto one of the stools.

He shrugged, still avoiding looking at me. “Only if you make it weird,” he mumbled.

We were both making it weird, and it wasn’t going to get any better if he refused to look at me.

“Cal.”

He put the eggs back in the fridge and pulled out a jar of pickles, turning it around to look at the label. “What?”

“You’re doing that thing where you sometimes refuse to look at me when we’re having a conversation, and I really need you to look at me for this one.”

Cally’s shoulders lifted on an inhale, then dropped. He put the pickles back on the top shelf, shut the fridge door, and turned to me, his face that blank mask I recognized from before we’d become friends, back when I couldn’t get a read on him at all.

“I want you to go,” he said, his voice flat.

I reared back, feeling like I’d been sucker punched. “What?” I croaked.

“On the date. You should go.”

I let out a relieved breath, and my shoulders dropped. “Oh, yeah. Shit. I thought you meant, like, leave the apartment.”

Cally’s head tilted, his brows pulling together. “Why would I want you to leave the apartment?”

I shook my head, drumming my fingers lightly on the countertop. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” he said, dropping his gaze from mine.

I pulled in a breath, my knee bouncing. “I told Nielson I’d go.”

He looked up, pressing his lips together briefly. “That’s good.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

His expression flattened out again, and he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, but you’re kind of giving off a vibe right now.”

“I’m not giving off a vibe,” he replied, his voice carefully neutral.

We stared at each other for a long beat, until, all at once, he seemed to deflate, his broad shoulders curling in on themselves. “What are we doing here, M?”

I pressed my hand to my knee, forcing it still. “I thought we were talking about the double date Nielson sprung on me.”

“I know, but why?”

I opened my mouth to explain, only to realize I didn’t have an explanation.

I just knew that I felt like I’d fucked up somehow back in the locker room, and I needed Cally to know I didn’t actually want to do it. That I’d only said yes as cover when I really wanted to spend my Friday night with him.

“We never said we weren’t seeing other people, Mikey,” he said, breaking the silence.

While that was true, hearing Cally point it out made me want to shout, “But I don’t want to see other people! I only want to spend time with you!”

And that meant I really fucking needed to go on this date. Because he and I weren’t together. Cally wasn’t my boyfriend.

All the good sex had fucked with my brain, apparently.

“You probably should date someone,” he went on as if he could read my mind. “Given the shit Nielson was spouting.”