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On Thursday, we had to give each of the ducks their baths, and he switched up the music, putting in the CD playlist I made for him early this fall.

When “Right Down the Line” started playing, he sang the lyrics, fully dedicating the song to me with a pet shampoo bottle in his wet soapy hand as a microphone. Duckleberry Finn kept shaking his tail feathers to the music so much that I think the other ducks were feeling scandalized. Harry, Hubert, and Howard all stared with judging eyes in the back of the kiddie pool.

Every time the chorus came around Knox would point directly at me with no shyness or shame.

Even when Rowen walked to the back and caught us singing while I held Bubbles in my arms and swayed her back and forth to the music, Knox turned to him and sang a little louder.

Rowen gave me a flat look and spoke over the noise.

“You sure this is the guy?”

I nod. Oh, he’s mine all right.

Yesterday morning, I got a text from him the second I opened my eyes.

Knox: Let’s go for a ride.

It’s been so long since we took the horses out for a ride together, possibly not since this last spring, that my body longs for the chance, but logically, I wouldn’t be able to make it happen in time.

Me: I have school?

Knox: Come on, play hooky with your boyfriend

Me: You’re a horrible influence

Knox: Just once?

Me: This weekend, sure

Knox: That feels years away…

The best part about all of this is that I am just as bad, maybe even worse than he is.

I’ve been so bad that my search for Jersey Guy has slowed to a snail’s pace. I haven’t given up on it or anything—I’m still regularly searching through the storage closet of Mom’s stuff—but also I’ve been with Knox so much that it tends to be the last thing on my mind.

Mom’s texts have slowed over the last ten days or so as well, but to be fair, she did say she was going to be super busy coming up. I still have just over four weeks until she’s supposed to be here, and that gives me at least three to figure out who Jersey Guy is, and then a week or so to convince him to come to our Thanksgiving and fall madly in love with my mom. No big deal.

If I haven’t been with Knox, then I have been stitching little scenarios together in my head during classes, images of him and me in the back of his truck watching stars in the distance. Sweet and slow and always ending with his lips on mine.

I wasn’t exactly picturing tonight’s situation, but here we are. All my girlfriends over at Riley’s for our usual book club (poor excuse of a book club considering I am the only one who reads) while Knox pouts on the couch next to me.

“It’s girls’ night, Knox.” Lottie puts a hand on her hip and Ada crosses her arms. Odelia is still working on sweet-talking Nigel into saying her name.

“So?” Knox pulls me closer to him, his hand around my waist, tucking me so close that I could climb into his hoodie. I take a deep breath of his scent and think maybe that’s not a bad idea. I’d like to crawl my way in there, chest to chest, and just lie right there.

“So, you’re not a girl.” Lottie points at the door. “Out.”

“This is discriminating, you know.”

“I’ll text you when they leave?” I smile up at him, and it must be a satisfying enough offer because he nods in agreement.

“See you in an hour and thirty,” I whisper to him on the way out.

He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Kiss you in an hour and thirty-one.”

“You know, I was all for this for the last twelve years, but I’m starting to regret it now.” Lottie makes a fake gag noise and I chuckle.

I don’t have siblings, though I deeply wish I did. I like to think I wouldn’t be a big fan of this either.