(Callum)
By the time Friday evening arrived, I had already considered canceling the dinner three separate times.
Not because I didn’t want to go.
Not because I disliked Ava.
The problem was that I wasn’t entirely sure I was doing it for the right reasons.
Still, canceling felt cowardly.
Ava had done nothing wrong.
In fact, she had been nothing but intelligent, professional, and easy to be around since arriving at the university.
If I was serious about moving forward, then I needed to actually move forward.
Not just think about it.
Not just tell myself I would.
Actually do it.
Which was how I found myself standing outside a restaurant twenty minutes later, adjusting my watch while wondering why I suddenly felt nervous.
The feeling annoyed me immediately.
I wasn’t a teenager.
