That night, after our parents have gone to bed, Zeke texts me.
**Zeke:** *You awake?*
**Me:** *Yeah. Can't sleep.*
**Zeke:** *Come outside.*
I slip out of bed and pull on a hoodie over my pajamas. Mom's bedroom door is closed, her light off, so I creep downstairs and out the front door.
Zeke's waiting by his truck, and when he sees me, he opens the passenger door. "Get in."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere we can be alone."
He drives us to the old gazebo on the edge of town, the one where we had our first real conversation after I moved back. It's dark and quiet, the only light coming from the moon overhead.
We climb into the back of his truck, where he's laid out blankets and pillows. It's sweet and romantic and so very Zeke that I can't help but smile.
"You planned this," I say
