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The rest of dinner goes by quickly. These boys eat a lot, and they eat fast.

I stand to go into the kitchen so I can start cleaning up. “You guys can bring your own dishes in, and I’ll wash, but just remember that when it’s your turn to cook, you clean it up too.”

Standing from his seat, Beckham says, “I’ll help you clean up.”

Casey mumbles something I can’t hear, but Beck responds with, “Fuck you.”

And the guys all laugh.

I’m already scraping my plate in the trash when Beck walks in. “What did Casey say to you?”

He shakes his head with a smirk. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

I let it go, and we work in silence for the next few minutes. After we load the plates and silverware into the dishwasher, I fill up the sink with soapy water to wash the pan and bowls I used for marinating.

Beck moves to stand behind me and puts his hands into the soapy water, right over mine, sliding his fingers between mine under the water. “Let me wash, and you can dry. Just like old times. Then I want you to tell me about your day.”

I nearly drop the plate in my hands. Luckily, I keep it from slipping, along with keeping my surprised reaction to Beck’s comment to myself.

“What could you possibly want to know about my day?” I dry the plate and leave it on the counter.

He hands me another. “What was one thing that made you smile today?”

With a half laugh, I bow my head. “Getting a sense of déjà vu.”

“Yeah. This used to be our thing, wasn’t it? Hanging with you, well …” He pauses briefly as he moves his hand right over mine. “Sometimes, being with you, it feels like old times.”

My breath catches, and I can’t speak, so I just nod and pull my hand out of his and continue drying the plate in my hand. I mean, if he’s talking about old times, literally anything we did together, including dishes, turned into kissing, then making out, and eventually … sex. I don’t think that’s what he’s talking about though.

And if I say the wrong thing, he’ll go cold on me again.

That seems to be a new trait of Beck’s.

Although I can’t figure out exactly what it is I say that makes his moods shift so easily.

“Beck, I …” I can’t find the words to answer him.

He stares at me with a look in his eye that I can’t quite read.

He must see the confusion on my face, so he breaks the awkwardness. “It’s okay. You can just admit it now. Being here, washing dishes with me, is your favorite part of the day.”

Is it? Maybe. Or perhaps it was an hour ago, when we were cooking together and being close. Or even when I woke up this morning and saw him still sleeping but with a soft smile on his face.

I huff, “You wish.”

We both start laughing. Like everything is normal. Like he doesn’t keep saying and doing things to make me want to smile at him again.

When we were younger, I got into the routine of asking him about his day and to tell me something that made him smile. I’d started doing it because my mom would ask Casey and me the same at dinner, but also because Beck would get a distant look in his eyes sometimes, and I wanted to bring him back to me.

Bring him back to me …

A thought I shouldn’t have anymore.

After the kitchen is clean, I go to the bedroom to take a shower and collect myself. Beck has me feeling out of my element, and I need a minute to regroup.

I’m lying in bed, reading, when he walks into the room.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower. Do you need to get in there before I do?”