I was sick to my stomach.

My stomach was rolling, over and over again, my throat threatening to close up. I stood outside of my grandparents’ house, clenching the bag of takeout, and trying to contemplate the pros and cons of full on sprinting away from them.

Grandma opened the door before I made it an inch.

“Luke?” She frowned, looking from side to side. “Why are you standing out here?”

“I—” my voice cracked. I shrugged, and was sure I was sweating bullets. “I thought maybe that I saw something. Bugs! Wasps, actually.”

“Wasps?” Grandma looked up.

“I—did not. I was wrong.” I felt my face heat up, and quickly ushered Grandma inside.

She glanced behind her. Grandpa was sitting in his recliner. I waved to him.

Grandma took the bag out of my hand. “Bill, there are wasps.”

“Wasps?” Grandpa looked around. “Where?”

“Outside!”

“Nowhere.” I sat on the couch while Grandma took the bag into the kitchen.

My legs jittered nervously as I stared at a baseball game on the TV. Grandpa frowned at me, but otherwise ignored the way I was trembling.

Grandma called us into dinner, loudly, and Grandpa rolled his eyes at me before winking. We went to the table and sat down while she dished the lasagna out.

“Thank you for bringing over supper!” Grandma said, smiling at me. “Two nights in a row! I’m so lucky.”

I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, of course, any time.”

Grandpa shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

I took a deep breath. “I met someone.”

Grandma’s eyes lit up. “Was it Jenny? It was Jenny!”

“Not Jenny.” I shook my head quickly. I swallowed hard. “Um. Actually. Okay. So I met someone, and I’d like you to meet—him.”

Grandpa coughed. He dropped his fork.

Panic flashed through me. I had just literally killed my grandfather.

Grandma passed him a glass of water. “Settle down, Bill.”

Grandpa glared at her. I shrank in my seat.

Grandma turned to me, still looking excited. “When do I get to meet him?”

My head snapped up. I could feel my eyes get big. “Um. What?”

“I asked when do I get to meet him?” Her eyes widened. “Is it Nick?”

“What!?” My heart was slamming against my chest. “Of course it’s not Nick!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know?” Grandma huffed. She grabbed a breadstick from the table and took a bite.

“I—you want to meet him?”

Grandma looked at me, tilting her head. She frowned. “Of course.”

My breath caught in my throat. I could feel my eyes start to water. “Um.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. I turned to him, feeling my heart frantically pounding. I could barely believe what was happening, could barely think or feel anything besides panic.

“Who is it?” Grandpa asked.

I felt about an inch tall. I wondered if a just joking! would work here.

“His name is Max.” My voice came out in a trembling whisper.

Grandpa nodded, his eyes narrowed. He set his fork down. Grandma watched him with a raised eyebrow.

“You know,” he said slowly. “There’s a new Italian place downtown.”

I frowned. “Okay?”

“Let’s go next week,” he said meaningfully. Grandma was smiling.

I choked back a confused gasp. “What?”

“Don’t make me spell it out, boy,” Grandpa said, sighing.

I nodded quickly. “You—want to meet him?”

Grandpa’s demeanor shifted, and he smiled kindly. “I’m an old man, Luke, but I ain’t dead. If you want me to meet someone, I would really like to be able to.”

My eyes burned, and my chest ached with a powerful, strong pulse that I could barely think past. “Okay,” I mumbled. “I’ll—make reservations. Next Friday?”

“Thursday,” Grandma said thoughtfully. She picked her fork back up. “I don’t like the crowds.”

Carefully, I picked up my own fork. I nodded. “Thursday,” I said to myself.

My whole body was shaking, but for the first time in a long time, it was with something besides anger or sadness. I was just—happy. Excited.

“Thanks,” I said suddenly.

Grandma’s face softened. Grandpa looked away. “This is good lasagna.”

I laughed a little, smiling down at my plate. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It really is.”

The tie I was wearing itched.

Grandma kept telling me that ties couldn’t itch, that the shirt protected my skin, and therefore any itching was just me losing my goddamn mind—although she worded it a lot more nicely.

But my tie was itching. It was also ugly.

I should have gotten a haircut.

“He’ll be here,” Grandma assured me, reaching over and putting her hand over mine. She squeezed and smiled.

I wasn’t so sure. I knew that Max wouldn’t come if I invited him myself. It took nearly all week, but by Wednesday, I had finally worked up the urge to ask him. And then I’d chickened out, and begged Harris to find an excuse to get Max to the restaurant for me.

Surprisingly, my boss seemed unsurprised that I knew about his relationship with Max, and that I was asking him for, honestly, such an inappropriate favor. But Harris had just laughed and agreed, promising me he’d be there at seven on the dot.

It was six fifty-three. I was going to have an aneurysm.

At least then Max would definitely get the promotion. Because I would be dead. From nerves, about going on a date with a guy who did not know it was a date and my grandparents.

Maybe it would be a stroke instead.

“Tell me about him,” Grandma said, cutting off my panic-induced funeral planning.

I mentally tabbed the argument I was building on a pine casket over a cherry one and sighed. Grandma propped her head in her hand. Grandpa was halfway through the basket of breadsticks.

“He’s—smart.” I struggled to find the words to describe him. “Also very annoying, but like, in a good way. He’s obnoxious, but in a way that you know he’s just trying to be fun, and in a way that really is just trying to get you comfortable.”

“Seems nice,” Grandpa said around a mouthful of bread. I wrinkled my nose at him. He scoffed and took another bite.

“Is he handsome?” Grandma asked, tapping at my hand.

I rolled my eyes, feeling my face burn. “Well, yes.”

“I knew it,” she grinned.

“He treat you good?” Grandpa asked.

My blush grew warmer. “Grandpa.”

“It’s a fair question!”

“It is,” Grandma agreed, nodding. “It is fair.”

“Are you being safe?”

I choked. “Grandpa!”

“It’s fair!”

“I’m ignoring you both.” I turned away and scanned the restaurant.

My heart stopped. Max stood in front of the hostess, looking around with a frown on his face.

I jumped up. Max’s head turned to me, and when our eyes locked, he froze.

“I—” I swallowed hard. My mouth was so dry, and my palms were so sweaty, and this was such, such a bad idea.

“Is that him? Bill! Bill, look.”

“Good God, woman, I am looking.”

“He is handsome.”

“Not as handsome as our Luke.”

“Well, no, but—”

I let their voices fade into the background as I walked toward Max. My heart hurt, and my lungs weren’t getting enough air, and I felt more like I was floating than walking.

I felt better than I had in days.

“Hi.”

“You tricked me.”

Max didn’t look as mad about it as the words suggested. I clung to that hopefully.

“I need to say something to you,” I said, feeling my hands tremble as hard as my voice was shaking. “Can we—please, Max?”

Max bit his bottom lip, hard, the teeth almost breaking skin as he looked around. His eyebrows were drawn. His hair had grown out a little.

He looked—tired. My fingers itched with the urge to touch him.

“Okay,” Max said. He nodded toward a little bench by the window that was otherwise empty.

I follow him to it. Grandma’s head popped up as she scanned the room, looking for us.

I ignored them. “I asked Harris to get you here,” I explained.

Max nodded. He wasn’t looking at me, but he was sitting near me, our knees touching, and my skin burned through my pants from the contact. “I figured. Why?”

“I—” I took a deep breath.

There was still time to run.

There was time for me to just apologize, say that I wanted us to be friends, that I would work on being a good friend to him. There was still time for me not to lay myself out there, completely bare and vulnerable to his anger.

He had been so angry. At work, in the supply closet—he’d been so mad. I was so afraid of him releasing that anger on me now, tonight.

“I told you that I didn’t want to talk,” Max said slowly.

I hung my head. “Yeah, I know.”

“But—I’m glad that you did this,” he admitted.

My head snapped up. “Really?”

Max shrugged. He scratched at a spot behind his ear. “I’m really sorry, Luke.”

“What? No, I’m sorry.”

“I—pushed you. I’m like that. I push, and I do things, and I try so hard to not take things seriously that sometimes I take them way too seriously, or way too nothing, and I don’t want to be like that to you. I never—I know i’m a dick sometimes, but I always thought it was like fun, frenemies dicking around, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

I swallowed hard. “I know that.”

His head snapped up. “You do?”

“I do.” I nodded. “I take things too personally. I know that. And you make things so personal for me.”

He considered that, chewing on his bottom lip. “Maybe we both overreacted a little?”

I nodded, swallowing. “Yeah.”

“I—don’t—I just—” I had never seen Max truly struggle to voice his thoughts before. It made me reach out. My hand fell to the space between us when I realized I had no right.

“I missed you.”

Max’s shoulders fell, his body relaxing. He looked up at me. “I missed you, too.”

We were quiet for a minute. It was the most peace I had had since the road trip. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but I knew that with Max, there were no pretenses. Even the parts of each other we didn’t know yet were right there, just beneath the surface. I wondered if the years of rivalry had primed us to fall faster once we finally did.

Max looked away. His jaw ticked and his hands folded on his lap, the knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding onto himself.

I blinked rapidly and tried to come up with the right words. I didn’t even know if there were any right words. What if he hated me? What if he couldn’t forgive me?

I felt sick again.

Max looked up, and I lost my breath when our eyes caught. Fuck it, I thought. Just try.

I exhaled deeply. “I’m really sorry, Max.”

He sighed. “I know, Luke, it’s—”

“Wait.” My hand shot out without my permission and curled around one of his. Max’s eyes fell to it. “Please, I—I’m not good with words, but just give me a second. Please.”

Max pursed his lips. Then he nodded. He didn’t remove his hand, and the kernel of hope from earlier grew a little bigger.

“I’m really sorry. Not just about—being angry. Or thinking you were trying to sabotage me, or any of the stuff that happened between us. I’m sorry that I—wasn’t willing to risk anything for you.”

Max’s eyes shot to mine. His mouth fell open in surprise.

Encouraged, I bolstered forward. “I know that’s the real thing, right? I wasn’t willing to be true to myself, and that sucked, but I also—you came to the hospital, and I walked right past you, and that hurt, it hurt me, but god, that must have hurt you, too.”

He nodded. I watched him swallow hard.

“You—I wasn’t willing to risk anything for you.” I took a deep breath and then looked him square in the eye, my jaw twitching. My other hand curled around his until I was holding both his hands in mine.

“I’m done with that. I—know that I could get hurt. Here. Or later. By you. But—I miss you. You’re worth—you’re worth so much, and—”

Max softly exhaled my name.

“I want to make this work. Max, I love you.”

There was a beat, where Max’s eyes were so wide and blue that I thought maybe the whole world had frozen, and I was actually drowning in his eyes. But then he surged forward, hands flying to my neck to tug me closer to him. I fell, body smashing against his, trapping him against the wall. His lips were hard against mine, desperate and sure, and I was lost.

I kissed him back just as passionately. He smelled like cinnamon and coffee and I couldn’t get close enough.

I yanked away with a start, remembering we were in a restaurant.

Max let out a low whine and tugged me back. “We’re in public,” I whispered.

“The police response time can’t be shorter than five minutes,” he argued.

I laughed. “Max.”

He kissed my neck. The hostess looked up at the ceiling, as if God was punishing her by sending us.

I untangled myself from Max’s body. “I—my grandparents are here.”

“Oh, shit!” Max jumped away from me, looking around. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry! Oh, shit, did I just out you?”

I shook my head quickly, reaching out for his hand. The tingling in my hand stopped as soon as we were touching. “Actually, I told them.”

Max’s eyes impossibly widened. His jaw fell. I grinned. “Flies will fall in,” I warned him, tapping at the bottom of his chin.

His mouth snapped closed. “You told them, told them?”

“Yes.” For the first time, a thrill of pride went up my spine.

“Why?” he blurted out. Max winced a little and shook his head. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“I had to,” I admitted. I bit my bottom lip and then let it go with a pop. “I needed them to meet you.”

Max let out a fast burst of breath. “What?”

His voice sounded small. I kissed him once more, gently. “I wanted them to meet you. They’re—ready. If you are.”

Max’s eyes flickered between mine and the seating area where my grandparents were. He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

“About you?” I smiled. “Yes.”

Max broke out into a grin. “Stella’s going to be pissed she didn’t meet you first.”

“Stella? From college?” I frowned, trying to place the girl I used to know.

Max shook his head. “There is still so much for you to learn about me.”

I grinned and leaned in to place my forehand against his. “I’m ready for it.”

“Me, too.” Max stood up and offered me his hand. “Let’s go impress the grand-folks.”

I laughed. “My grandma is going to ask you inappropriate questions.”

Max considered that, and then nodded. “I’m ready.”

Holding Max’s hand, feeling his presence at my side, I thought that I finally was, too.