then—” I trailed off and looked at him uncertainly. “No, that was awesome,” he said. “That was great. To be honest, I was afraid of going too fast and I just—I want to let you get settled here and get comfortable. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” “I’m actually pretty comfortable.” “Don’t get me wrong, that’s definitely what I want. But I worry

If you’re our age and single, dating kind of has to be an act of reckless optimism, right? The triumph of hope over experience?”

“Okay.” A jitteriness swelled in my stomach, distinct from the swoony anticipation of seeing him; this jitteriness was sour.

“I promise that someday you’ll find the love you deserve, but it might not be when or how you’re expecting it.”

try. I reminded myself of someone, and then I realized it was Sugar during a thunderstorm.

so really, wouldn’t it have been a waste of time to fret about my thighs or belly?

but the truth was that he read it only at night and rarely got through more than a few pages before falling asleep;

beautiful, unexpected relief.

Through my mask, his neck smelled the way he smelled on waking, some combination of being outside in the woods and bread, and I thought how in the last few weeks, the idea of him had sometimes made me nervous but the reality of him always comforted me.