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There’s a moment of silence as we finish up our cones. When there’s nothing left but empty, damp wrappers from the cones, Knox takes the papers to the closest trash can and throws them away. As we pull out of our parking spot, he turns back onto the road, inhaling deeply.

“What if instead of you finding a practice coach or whatever…we both try?”

“Try what?”

“Dating,” he says like it’s not the most odd thing to ever leave his mouth. “Not each other,” he adds quickly—too quickly—like the thought startled him, and I find myself a little offended. “I mean…we could both try to prepare ourselves to find someone. Before the Winter Formal.”

I stare at him. “Like a challenge?”

“Like a goal.” He meets my gaze for a second. “We’ve got, what…nine weeks? That’s enough time to figure things out. We can practice everything and see if we’re, you know, not horrible at it. Then when we feel ready, you find a date for the formal, I find a date in general. Equal footing. No embarrassment, no pressure.”

Equal. Safe. Still terrifying…but less than the thought of going on a date with Ledger.

“But what if neither of us finds anyone?” I ask softly, cheeks warm at the thought. Or even worse, what if he finds some perfect girl and I’m still alone by the end of this?

He gives me a small, crooked smile. A little secret in that smirk. “Then at least we failed together.”

Something in my stomach swoops, warm and a touch confusing and yet…right. That ooey-gooey warmth that says this is far better than whatever I thought I was going to pull off with Ledger.

“And,” Knox adds, eyes flicking back to the road, “I’ll probably mess up just as much as you. So you won’t be alone in the awkward stuff.”

I nod, too quickly, clutching my hands in my lap. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe that could work.”

He glances at me, smile widening just the tiniest bit as he lets one hand off the wheel to offer it to me. “Then it’s a deal. Practice date until we both find a real date?”

“A deal.” I place my fingers into his warm palm and shake it, ignoring the jump in my bones.

This is either the best or the worst idea we have ever had.

Chapter Six Knox

This is the worst idea I have ever had.

Was that really me offering to be her dating coach? What demon possessed me to think that was a completely normal thing to just throw out there?

All I know is I look down at those sweet brown eyes. Eyes I’ve been chasing for eleven years, everywhere she goes. Eyes that know me better than anyone else in this world and that still have one secret kept from them. Seeing those eyes so embarrassed and…defeated, I think I would have said literally anything to wipe that look away.

Her hair has turned back into the same wild mess it always is, and I’m thankful that with tonight’s sudden wardrobe switch, her hair has reverted back to its original state. Those untamable, soft curls. I sometimes accidentally choke on them when she squeezes me tight and I suck in a breath of air. The first thing I noticed about her was that hair—it reminded me of a curly lion’s mane, soft and lush and yet holding all this strength and power beneath it, even back then.

Felicity pops up and grins at me as I pull into my driveway. “You sure about this?”

“Yes.”

No, no, no. Bad idea.

I’ve got enough on my plate right now trying to keep my head on straight about the ranch, but throw this on top, and I’m a scale only a couple grams away from tipping.

You’ve never dated anyone, right?

Of course I haven’t dated anyone. Who else is out there?

I’ve had this ridiculous crush as long as I can remember, and whereas I’ve made plans of progressing things in the past, something always got in the way.

Maybe it’s not clear on her side, but it’s more than obvious to me that this summer, things have shifted between us.

Those easy, soft touches we used to share—brushing her hair out of her eyes, holding her hand while watching a movie, splitting a milkshake with one straw—all feels…different now. Like we’re toeing a line we should avoid altogether. Ever since that summer night where I almost kissed her, we’ve hardly touched. And when we do it by accident, like her handing me the scoop for the duck feed and our fingers brush, or something as simple as passing by in the small hallway of Riley’s Tavern, we both jump out of our skin and push right back into our plain, regular, normal, no-touching friendship.

I miss holding her hand. I miss looping her fingers through mine and not having to worry if it means something to her too. I miss not having to wonder constantly if what I’m doing is okay.