“So, um,” Clark said, adjusting his glasses, “do you ever work nights?”

I felt my smile fade as I realized I might have read this all wrong. I had thought that maybe he’d been working up the nerve to ask me out. But maybe all of this had just been about the dog. “Nope,” I said, trying to keep my voice professional and friendly and not reveal anything else I was currently feeling. “But . . . I mean, if there were an emergency or something, I probably would.”

“No,” Clark said, shaking his head. “I was just . . . trying to get a sense of your schedule.” He blinked, like he’d just heard himself, and I could see the tops of his ears were starting to turn red. “Wow, that sounded creepy. I didn’t mean that in, like, a weird way. I think I’m making this worse. Oh god.” He took a breath, then swallowed hard. “I was wondering, you know, what you do. At night.” He stared at me in horror after he said it, like he couldn’t quite believe the words had come out of his mouth. “Oh, man,” he muttered, closing his eyes behind his glasses for a moment. “This isn’t going well.”

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling wide. “Hey, Clark?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a big breath, and I was pretty sure he hadn’t heard me. “Andie. So you’ve been spending a lot of time with Bertie. You know, taking him on walks, and . . .” Clark’s face fell as he realized a second too late what he’d done. Bertie looked up from his water dish, droplets hanging off his muzzle, practically vibrating with excitement.

“You said the W word,” I whispered.

“I know,” Clark said, as Bertie leaped in the air and tore out of the kitchen, only to tear back a second later, look between us, and take off running again. “I just,” Clark said, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of a hundred-pound dog running circles around us, “was thinking that since you’ve been spending time, you know, with Bertie, maybe we should talk about him, and . . .”

Bertie raced out of the kitchen, nails scrabbling on the floors, and I looked across at Clark in the sudden silence. “Hey, Clark?” He looked up. “Want to hang out with me tonight?”

He just blinked at me for a second, then smiled, and I almost had to take a step back from it. It was like all the other smiles he’d given me so far were pale imitations. This one deepened his dimples, pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Yes,” he said, sounding beyond relieved, giving me a half laugh. “That sounds great.”

“Awesome,” I said, smiling back at him.

“So we’ll get dinner,” he said. “I’ll find someplace good.” He slid a notepad and a pen that had been on the counter over toward me. “Want to write down your address and I’ll pick you up?”

“Oh,” I said, taken aback for a second. I’d assumed we’d do something like meet up at the Orchard or go for coffee. But going out to dinner—and having him pick me up—suddenly seemed really exciting and a lot more grown-up. “Sure,” I said, writing out my address. “I guess . . . pick me up at seven?”

“Seven,” he said, still smiling. “Seven’s great. I love seven. Okay. That’s a plan.”

“It’s a plan,” I echoed, smiling back at him, stopping myself before it became a full-on foolish grin, even though that was what I was feeling. I had a date tonight. Like, an actual date with a guy coming to the door and picking me up. And I’d technically had to ask him out, but who cared about that? Without meaning to, I found my eyes drifting down to his mouth. By the end of tonight, we might have kissed. I pushed the pad of paper back across to him. “It’s in Stanwich Woods,” I said, and he nodded but without any indication that he knew what that was. “So just tell the guard at the gatehouse that you’re coming to see me and they’ll let you in.”

“Great,” he said, ripping off the top piece of paper and folding it carefully in half before sticking it in the pocket of his light-blue T-shirt. We looked at each other for a long beat, both of us still smiling, and I realized I needed to get out of there before this nice moment turned awkward.

“Well, then, I’ll see you,” I said, as I started to back out of the kitchen, nearly tripping over Bertie, who was running back in, clearly wondering why neither one of us was chasing him around with a leash, “at seven.” I patted Bertie’s head, then glanced at the clock and realized that was in an hour and a half. I’d have to get moving.

“See you,” Clark echoed, and I gave him a quick nod before I turned and headed out, fighting the urge to do a little hop as I went.

I walked to my car, feeling like finally something was working out this summer. I may not have had a prestigious program to put on my résumé, but I had a date with a really cute boy, and if all went according to plan, we’d be kissing in a few hours. I pulled open the door to my car, already texting my friends.

ME

Date with Clark tonight!!!

Need prep help & reinforcements!!!

Then, not quite able to keep the smile off my face, I started the car and headed for home.

? ? ?

“You look great,” Palmer said from where she was sprawled across my bed. I was standing in front of my mirror, fussing with my hair, even though Palmer had already straightened it and told me not to touch it.