“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

His eyes dip back to my mouth. “I bet you could do it.”

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.” I imagine an all-nighter with Lance would be exhausting for reasons other than lack of sleep.

“What about going for ice cream then?”

“It’s October.”

“Or some other dessert? Please, Poppy.” He tugs on the end of my ponytail. “I want a reason to say good night again.”

If he means kissing me, he hardly needs an excuse. “I guess dessert wouldn’t hurt.”

“And that way this doesn’t count as part of the dinner and a coffee date thing.”

“You’re quite the negotiator, aren’t you?”

“I always won in debate class. So should I follow you home and we can hit a place near there?”

“Sure. That would work.”

Lance holds my door open. Before I get in he puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. I expect some tongue or something, but all I get is a quick brush of lips. “Drive safe.”

“You, too.”

I drop into the driver’s seat, my legs feeling like they’re made of rubber. Lance’s Hummer revs to life, the loud rumble drowning out the sound of my engine turning over and the music filtering through my speaker system. His lights practically blind me. I turn my head away, letting my eyes adjust to the dark for a moment, before I pull out of the lot, and he follows me to my neighborhood.

The butterflies in my stomach won’t stop, and my palms are sweaty. I park in front of my house, but Lance has to drive a little farther down to find a spot for his giant vehicle.

While he’s parking, I run into my house, change into a pair of jeans and a mostly wrinkle-free sweater, and return to meet him on my front porch.

“There’s a little dessert place a couple of blocks away. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah. Dessert’s my favorite.”

“Great.” We start down the sidewalk. I have to take two steps for every one of his long strides. “They have all kinds of homemade pies and cakes and scones and things, and this amazing lavender tea.”

“Nice. I’m actually kinda hungry now, so that’s perfect.”

“I imagine that’s fairly constant for you.”

“Pretty much.” Lance shoves his hands in his pockets as we walk, so I do, too. “You said you grew up in your house, right? So you’ve lived here all your life?”

“Until high school. We moved to Galesburg for a few years right before I started, but my parents didn’t sell the house. I guess they always thought we’d be back. Or maybe it was a good investment property. The neighborhood’s improved a lot over the years.”

Lance takes in the houses lining the street. They’re pretty, and many of them have been face-lifted, if not totally remodeled, since my childhood.

“I lived around here for a few years,” he says.

“Oh? Whereabouts?”

“Not too far away, I don’t think. Lister Street? All of this looked familiar the last time I came here. My aunt’s moved since I lived with her, so I haven’t been back in this neighborhood for a long time.”

“Oh? Where’d she move to?” I want to distract him from questions about me. Now that he’s taking me out, I can and probably should tell him the entire truth, but I’m not sure how to divulge that information yet.

“Up to Wisconsin, out of the city. Her kids are grown and out of the house. My one cousin’s married with kids in Milwaukee, and I think she wants to be close to them and all.”

“How old were you when you moved to Chicago, anyway?” I think my school must’ve been the first place he came, based on the rumors back then, but asking keeps the focus away from me.

“Thirteen. It was late spring. I didn’t expect it to be so freaking hot since it had been winter the last time I visited, and that was when I was ten. Scotland doesn’t get snow that much, not where I’m from, and the temperature changes aren’t as extreme as they are here.”

“You must’ve been so sunburned that first summer.”

“Oh, fuck! I had the worst sun poisoning. I was barfing for, like, three days, and I was covered in blisters. My mum was pissed. I had to miss two hockey practices, I was so sick.” His jaw tics. “I never went outside without a ball cap or sunscreen after that.”

“Was it hard to get used to winter?”

“Not too bad, since it meant playing lots of ice hockey.”

“Did you start playing Rep hockey as soon as you moved? That must’ve been a huge change.”

“I did. I was old to be starting. Most of these kids had been on skates since they could walk, but I loved playing, and it was a good outlet for me.”

“Your parents must be so proud of you.” Mine are happy that I have a full-time job in the field they spent all sorts of money educating me for, and that I found a job that suits me. Obviously they’re proud, too, but becoming a massage therapist is a lot different than a professional hockey player.

“I don’t talk to them all that much. I mean, I guess my dad is proud, but he isn’t all that connected to the family, and he wasn’t here when it mattered.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. My mum isn’t really a good person, so I don’t much blame my dad for leaving.”