“That still sounds really nice,” he says.

I think I feel my face light up because it does sound nice. It shouldn’t sound nice, but it does. And if this isn’t a date, I’m pretty sure Wednesday night will be. I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into. I might as well be walking through my life backwards. At least then I’d have an excuse.

We’re suddenly at the end of the trail. It’s almost dark now, and there are only a few cars left in the parking lot.

“Hey, Jorgen, there you are.”

We both hear Kevin yell from across the park, so we stop and wait for him to catch up to us. It takes him a couple seconds, but he eventually does and swings his arm around Jorgen’s shoulder.

“Hey, you bring your truck?” Kevin asks. “I think I left my sunglasses in there the other day.”

Jorgen shakes his head. “Ada drove. Truck’s in the shop.”

“Well, why didn’t you take her for a ride on your bike? It’s a good night for it.” Kevin’s gaze eventually lands on me, and immediately, his whole demeanor changes.

I catch the strange look in his eyes and try to stop my face from instinctively crumpling into some kind of confused mess.

“The dress,” Jorgen says, simply.

Kevin’s attention quickly leaves me and travels straight to the ground at his feet. It takes him a minute, but then he nods his head. “Right,” he says, allowing his eyes to venture my way again. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug my shoulders and force a smile. Kevin finally smiles, but it seems forced too.

“Well, can you bring them to work?” Kevin asks, returning his attention to Jorgen. “The sunglasses.”

“Sure,” Jorgen says.

“Well, all right, you two have fun tonight.” Kevin pats Jorgen on the shoulder. “And Ada…again, it was…uh…nice to meet you.”

I wave at Kevin, but I keep a suspicious eye on him as he walks away.

“I’ll see ya,” Jorgen says to him before turning back to me. “You ready?”

My stare quickly breaks from Kevin. “Uh, yeah.”

I unlock the car, and Jorgen opens my door for me. Instantly, my eyes go to his, and I flash him that silly, bashful smile again. I’m learning I really can’t help it.

“Thanks,” I say and slide into the driver’s seat.

He gently closes the door and then makes his way over to the passenger’s side, while I steal another quick glance back at Kevin. He’s talking to someone else now across the parking lot. His back is to me, so he can’t see me. I keep my stare on him for several moments before Jorgen at last falls into the seat next to mine.

“Where’s Kevin from?” I ask, sticking the key into the ignition.

“Uh, Moberly,” Jorgen replies.

“Hmm.” I mumble the word out loud but mostly to myself. “Does he really remember every face?”

I turn and catch Jorgen’s blue, blue eyes.

“I know it’s weird, but for the most part, he does,” he says.

I feel my eyebrows starting to collide into each other again as another thought grazes the tip of my mind, but Jorgen’s lips edging up his handsome face stops the thought cold.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight, Ada.”

I feel my features soften.

“It was fun,” I say and mean it.

“Well, this is me.” I stop at my door.

Jorgen is holding the two helmets — one in each hand. We’re both staring at each other when I finish my sentence. I don’t know what to do next.

“Good-night, Ada,” he says, before I can think of something else to do.

I let go of a thankful breath.

“Good-night,” I say, slowly spinning toward my door.

I stick the key into the lock and turn it. My heart is racing. Adrenaline is sprinting through my veins. I don’t want the night to end, but I know it has to, and I know that this is its ending.

I turn back one last time and all at once feel a rebellious smile cross my face. He’s just standing there with his perfect, muscle-laced body and his bright blue eyes, piercing my skin, and a crooked grin hanging on his lips. He’s kind of exhilarating. I had forgotten what something like this feels like. It’s kind of addicting. I kind of want more, but instead, I turn the knob, push through the door and close it gently behind me.

Once inside my little, dark apartment, I take a deep, excited breath and then hold back a sound that comes from somewhere deep inside my chest. In this moment, I don’t feel guilty; I don’t feel sad; I just feel…happy.

“Okay, it’s just about ready.”

I turn off the light to the oven and search for a pot holder.

“Hey, you have Saint Michael.”

I can hear his voice trailing off in the other room.

“What?” I ask.

“Saint Michael,” Jorgen says. “Where did you get this?”

His question sounds purely curious, even though I don’t have the slightest idea of what he’s talking about yet.

I find the pot holder and pull it over my hand.

“Hmm?” I mumble.

I look up from the counter and notice him examining the pin that has sat on my bookshelf since I moved in. Instantly, I feel my heart sink a little deeper inside my chest.

“My sister,” I say flatly, allowing my eyes to fall to the glove on my hand.

I’m not sure why I say I got it from Hannah. It just kind of comes out.

“Do you know who this is?” he asks.

I look up again. He’s still examining the pin.

“Uh…Saint Michael?” I say, unsure, merely repeating his words.

I really don’t know. It’s a silver pin with a guy on it, and the guy has big wings, and I think he’s carrying a sword. But that’s all I know. I open the oven door and pull out a baking sheet.

“Come on,” I say, “everything is almost ready.”

“It’s the patron saint of emergency technicians,” he says, turning the pin over in his hand.

I laugh because I don’t know what else to do, but it comes out sounding nothing like a laugh, as I feel my heart slam hard against the wall of my chest.

“Oh,” I say, trying to sound unfazed.

I say the little word so softly I almost don’t even hear it myself.

He’s quiet for a minute. I fight back the warm tears welling up behind my eyelids before I even attempt to look up. But when I eventually do, his eyes fall into mine instantly — as if he’s searching me. It feels as if he can read my soul. I quickly drop my gaze.

“Dinner is served,” I say.

I feel him watching me for another moment before I look up and catch him setting the pin back down onto the shelf.

“I used to have one of those.” He walks to the table, finds a chair and falls into it.

I continue to battle back the tears from the thoughts that shouldn’t be there anymore. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I hope it’s okay,” I say, looking down at the two plates. “It’s the only thing I really know how to make.”

Jorgen looks down at his plate and back up at me.

“If it tastes as great as it looks, I’m in heaven.”

“Okay, but just remember, I’m not the one who ever entertained the idea of becoming a chef.”

“Hey,” he says, “I entertained the idea. That’s about as far as I got.”

I laugh and take a seat next to him.

“Dinner was great. Way better than what I could have done.”

I lower my eyes. “Thanks.”

A silent moment passes between us. I really do hate silent, awkward moments, and my first instinct is to fill them as quickly as possible with the first thought that comes to my mind. “Do you have to go?”

He sets his eyes on mine but still offers no words.

“Or do you want to hang out and watch something?” I ask, hesitantly.

“Go?” His voice sounds surprised.

I hold my breath. I really don’t want to scare him off by sounding desperate, but I do want him to stay. I’m learning that when he’s around, I only think about him — about finding out who he is — and not about who I was or still am.