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I want him to touch me. I want to touch him. But I can’t. It’s too sad.

“Listen…” I straighten the top of my shirt, tugging it up just slightly. “I don’t think we should hang out with them. Together, I mean. Like this.”

Eli sits up, looking slightly surprised. “But you just said you like them?”

“I do. But Eli, it’s only going to make it worse when…”

I trail off, and after a moment Eli nods. “When this is over.” His voice is low.

“Kelly and Neil already talked about going straight to the Bahamas after the show wraps. So that should be our end date too, don’t you think?”

Eli picks at the label on his bottle of beer before sitting up and taking a sip.

“Yeah,” he says, not meeting my eye as he clunks the bottle back on the table. “That makes sense.”

“Eli—”

“No, you’re right. It’ll be extra awkward if you suddenly stop coming to Sunday dinner with Dad.”

“You have Sunday dinners with your dad?”

“Not every Sunday. Usually only when Seamus is in town, because none of the rest of us can cook. Did you see him talking to Neil, by the way?”

I laugh. “He looked like he met his hero.”

Eli grins, and he looks so handsome for a moment, I can’t look away.

Then I have to. Because it feels sad, talking about the end like this. Which is ridiculous, because this isn’t real.

I run a thumb over my wrist.

Then I feel Eli’s eyes there and I turn my hands over, onto my thighs.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says.

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m only a few blocks away.”

“Okay,” he says, a little too quickly. At my expression he looks sheepish. “Now that I say that, I think maybe I shouldn’t drive.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Just a little on the loose side.”

“So, drunk.”

Eli points one fingertip at another, then brings them toward each other. He misses by a mile, his arms crossing.

I laugh, shoving at him. “Stop it.” He’s being ridiculous, but he’s broken the weird tension that had stretched between us. He’s being fun Eli again, the one who makes me laugh.

And I’m grateful for it. Fun Eli is the reason I’m here.

“Should I sing you the alphabet?” he asks, still smiling. When he sees my eyebrows shoot up, he says, “What, you didn’t know I could sing too?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“That’s because I can’t. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees once more. Except now his legs are wide, while mine are pressed tightly together, and he draws the back of his fingers across my kneecap. Just once. Just briefly. But it’s enough to make me shiver.