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“Wow. I didn’t, uh ... expect you to say that.”

“It’s just a job. Serving cocktails. Seedy digs and whatnot, but it’s fine.”

“Huh.” His body has stiffened.

“And don’t worry, Lorenzo’s already expressed the appropriate amount of male concern to cover both of you. There’s all kinds of security. It’s safe.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just that dudes can be?—”

“Every girl knows how dudes can be. We don’t need to be told.” I add a smile to soften the harshness of my delivery.

He looks at me. “Right. I guess that’s true.” He shakes his head, moving on. “Anyway, think about working for my sister-in-law. You could probably work there until graduation. She’s looking for long-term.”

“A year at the same job? I’ve never even had a relationship last that long,” I joke.

Brad gives me a kind, if not patronizing, smile. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What is?”

He opens his mouth halfway, then pauses to study me. “I mean, in a year we’ll be adults going out into the real world. And you’re still jumping from one thing to the next—the fish, thestrip club, the other little ideas you had. No offense, Ruby, but you gotta grow up and commit to something.”

It’s not that he’s wrong. That’s not why I taste the bitterness of embarrassment at the back of my throat. It’s that I already knew this about myself. I just didn’t know it was such a loathsome quality that I need a lecture about it on a date with a guy I think genuinely likes me. “Maybe,” I say, hoping he moves on.

It works. He leans close, nuzzling his lips against my ear, and whispers, “Don’t worry. I think you’re pretty damn cute anyway.”

Anyway?His lips move to my mouth, and I let him kiss me, but I’m moving robotically. I’m not even sure whether I’m kissing him back. I don’t taste a thing.

Maybe I need to get over it. What he said wasn’t even that bad. I’ve had guys say so much worse to my face. Brad might not be subtle, but he was only trying to help, right? Still, I feel the same cold confusion from earlier.

He pulls back, finally noticing this kiss is one-sided. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was just expecting a slightly more seductive line before you kissed me.”

Brad takes my hand. “Sorry, Ruby, I wasn’t trying to be a dick.”

“You’re not. It’s just ...” I shrug. “Not everyone has their life figured out by the time college ends.”

He gives me a doubtful look. “But you could at least try.”

It hits me then: I don’t ever want to do this again. I don’t want to go out with someone who likes me despite my nature, not because of it. I don’t want to give a guy another chance in spite of this, that, or the other bullshit. I don’t want to go out with someone whose kiss doesn’t make my blood pulse hot in my veins.

And I don’t want to spend another minute with someone who has listened to me tell my life story and still thinks I’m not fucking trying.

When I stand up, Brad looks too stunned to speak.

“I’m heading home,” I tell him.

“Wait,” he says, finding his voice. “Really? Hold on, are you mad? Because of what I said?”

“I’m not mad. And yes, because of what you said.”

He stands up and grabs my arm. “I didn’t mean to offend you, okay? I was just trying to help.”

“I know. Totally get it, but I don’t want that kind of help.”

He gestures around, wide-eyed, like,You’re really walking away from all this?Yep, I am. I’m walking away from the dorky dancing, the lukewarm kisses, the overconfidence, the obliviousness to the fact that being good at one thing—football—means he doesn’t have to work hard for a damn thing else.

But I lied; I’m not going home. I’m going to Lorenzo.