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I look up to find both Sydney and Ashley staring at me.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing.” Sydney sings cheerily.

I am moving tennis, but not for him, for a new book and a free croissant.

* * *

The following day, I am seriously questioning the judgment of past me.

The fitting room is small. Surprisingly small for a place that charges this much. Some of the tags here have eye-watering amounts. There’s a low podium in the center, a velvet chair in the corner—which I am occupying—and three mirrors.

The tailor, a short man with a tape measure around his neck and a curly mustache, says something to Cal about the break of the trouser, and Cal nods and then—with zero ceremony—starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting measured.” He’s on the third button.

“I didn’t know this would involve undressing.”

His hands stop. He looks at me. “Shit—yeah. Sorry, I didn’t think.” He nods toward the door. “There’s a waiting room next door. Comfy chairs. Terrible magazines. You can quiz me through the wall.”

To him this is just another day. He has probably been undressed in front of people plenty of times. I, on the other hand, can count on one hand the amount of people who have seen me in my underwear. If I bolt next door over a shirt, I will officially be the lamest person he has ever met.

“No. It’s fine.” I flip a flashcard with tremendous authority. “I study anatomy. You’re basically a diagram.”

One eyebrow goes up. He does not look remotely convinced.

“A diagram.”

“A walking diagram.”

“Okay, Doc.” The grin arrives, slow and infuriating. “If you’re sure you can handle it.”

“Yep. I’ll manage.”

He holds my gaze. Then the shirt comes off, and the pants follow, and the mirrors mean that wherever I look, I can see Cal.

All of Cal.

In his boxers.

A very tall, very tattooed diagram. With the perfect male proportions.

He steps up onto the podium and spreads his arms for the tailor. “Right. I’ve got a final to pass. Quiz me.”

The tailor circles him, measures, hums disapprovingly at something, writes a note, and disappears through a side door.

We get through three questions.

I am doing extremely well.

“Name the muscles of the quadriceps.”

“Easy.”

“Go on, then.”