“Hey.”
I shorten my strides as Shane jogs to catch up, struggling to take off his helmet. “Hi,” he smiles, but I barely summon a side-cheek twitch. “Accounting, hun?” He attaches his helmet to a silver hook hanging on his bag. “We should be able to get front seats. Hey,” he nudges me lightly, a playful chuckle leaving his lips, “if you need help. I suck at karaoke, but I’m good with numbers.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, staring straight ahead.
“What are you doing after…? We could head back to the bar, maybe go somewhere else? I have a list of cool places you should absolutely check out,” he offers, bouncing with his steps.
“Yeah,” I say. I’m running out of answers to give, without sounding like a jerk, but I don’t want to lead him on either. The last time I let myself forget my reality, I made a
