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But, as Noami’s laughter rings out over the story Mike’s recounting about something stupid I did when I was sixteen, I’m not exactly sorry either.

“Since he lost a bet he never should have made in the first place, his teammates got to pick a task.” Mike has always been a good storyteller, and Naomi is hanging on every word.

When I picked her up at her office, she burst out of the door with a big smile, then paused at the sight of Mike standing next to me. It was only a tiny pause, though, and after introducing Mike, explaining that I’d lived with Mike’s family as a teenager, she just rolled with it. And by that, I mean she spent the car ride all the way through our meals at this bistro that Felix recommended goading Mike into telling her as many embarrassing stories as possible.

There are way more than I remember, and Mike’s memory is sharp when it comes to this period of time. He’s been more than willing to share. Comparatively, I was a pretty good kid. But when you’re playing youth hockey, there’s always some kind of trouble. I guess a little dose of humiliation is what I deserve for springing this on Naomi.

So far, Mike seems to be keeping the past in the past. I’m not sure whennowis for him, but he’s telling the stories like they are distant memories, not like I’m currently the teenager who recently lost a bet with his teammates.

Naomi’s eyes, sparkling with mirth, fix on me. “You’re telling me this guy, the one who uses as few words as possible asoftenas possible, did Lady Gaga karaoke—complete with choreography?”

Mike grins. “Yup.”

“Can he even sing?”

“Absolutely not.”

As she turns to me, she grins. It takes work not to let my gaze fall there or my thoughts to go back to our kiss last night.

I swallow. “How about dancing, Cam?”

The nickname slips out, and she doesn’t seem to notice. I do. And it reminds me of last summer and the way she stopped using my whole name by the second week we were hanging out. I wonder if she was aware back then? It makes light, warm and golden, flood through my chest.

I want to reach for her, but so far, I’ve kept my hands to myself. It just seems wiser, at least for now. I didn’t tell Mike this was a date per se, only that I wanted him to meet someone. His eyes lit up knowingly when he saw Naomi, but nothing else has been said. Somehow, I feel like taking Naomi’s hand across the table might curse how well this has gone.

Trying to navigate this situation isn’t easy. My thinking was that having Naomi meet Mike would make more sense than just an explanation. I’ve never been great with words anyway.

Naomi leans forward, and the movement reminds me that she’s still waiting on my answer. I got lost in her lips and then in my thoughts.

“I’m terrible at dancing,” I say. “And it took me hours to learn the steps.”

“But he fully committed,” Mike says, sounding as proud as if he’s talking about a game-winning goal. “Outfit and all.”

Naomi cackles. “Outfit?Tell me you have photo evidence.”

“Of course.” Mike already has his phone out.

I’m sure he did have pictures at one point. But as he starts swiping through his photos, his forehead creases in a frown.

“Huh. I can’t seem to find them. I must have …”

He trails off, and I tense, realizing perhaps too late that scrolling through his phone might mean crashing directly into a confusing reality. It’s the first stumble he’s had during our lunch, but it’s subtle enough Naomi hasn’t noticed.

Mike’s frown deepens, and his voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t …”

She notices now. Concern paints her features as she reaches over to touch Mike’s shoulder gently. He jumps and drops his phone on the table. I catch a glimpse of his screen, still lit up where it landed. It shows a lot of pictures of Mike at the lake with some people I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to recognize them either.

“It’s okay,” Naomi tells him. “You can show me the pictures another time.”

“Mike—” I start.

“Right,” he says. “Maybe I’ll find them later.” A smile appears, smoothing out the worry lines from his face, though I can see the effort it takes for him to override the moment of confusion. “I probably have one printed out somewhere.”

He clicks off his phone and turns it facedown, abandoning the hunt for pictures as well as any sense of momentary confusion he had.

Naomi looks between us, too observant to have missed the brief tension, even though it’s clear she doesn’t understand it.

Thankfully, Jordan appears by the table then, just as he and I talked about earlier.