“We’ve all got a rotten streak,” I say as I open the door with the envelope held tight to my chest.

I march inside and hand the envelope to Lucius, who’s worked behind the counter here since my mother was a little girl. “I’d like a receipt upon arrival, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he tells me.

He rings me up for the cost of certified mail and then he takes it away from me and that’s pretty much it. Good-bye, Daisy Ranch. Hello, University of Texas Broadcast Journalism Boot Camp.

Callie and I rush into work, and Inga squints at the two of us, preparing to scold, but then I say, “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Inga nods. “Your check is in the office.”

“Getting paid?” mumbles Callie. “What does that feel like?”

I nudge her with my elbow. “Thanks, Inga. Kiss Luka and Nikolai for me.”

“They’re monsters,” she says as she gathers her keys and things. “Little hairless monsters who just eat and poop. Eat and poop. I tell your uncle every day that if men could have babies, we’d be making people in labs instead of bellies.”

Callie nods her head. “Yeah, and if they had to deal with periods, you better believe tampons would be free.”

Inga nods toward Callie. “She gets it.”

Callie keeps a straight face, but I can tell that Inga’s slight approval has not gone unnoticed.

After I grab my check, Callie and I settle in behind the counter to see what’s left of the daily checklist.

Callie gasps.

I look up just in time to see Mitch pull the front door open. He’s not wearing workout clothes and he hasn’t got a gym bag with him.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Callie and I say in unison.

I shrink back a little when I feel Callie tense up beside me.

Callie holds out the sign-in clipboard. “You can go ahead and sign in.”

Mitch clears his throat. “I’m, um, actually not here to work out today.”

“Okay,” says Callie.

Mitch nervously pops his knuckles until they won’t pop anymore.

I so desperately want to jump in and mediate the situation, but I do everything in my power to restrain myself.

“Could we maybe talk?” he asks.

“Totally!” I say.

They both look to me with raised brows.

I grin sheepishly.

Mitch turns back to Callie. “Maybe in private?”

That’s my cue. “I have so much to do,” I say, taking the checklist. Trying my best not to sound awkward, I turn to Callie and add, “Callie, could you watch the front desk while I work on my super-long to-do list?”

Her eyes are wide with panic, and her cheeks are turning pink, but she says, “Uh, yeah. You go do that.”

I skip around the gym, trying to make myself look busy. I don’t purposely eavesdrop, but it’s not like this place is very big.

After a while, I hear Mitch say, “What about Saturday?”

“Saturdays aren’t good,” says Callie.

“Saturday’s good!” I say before I can stop myself.

Callie twirls around to find me cleaning the mirrors above the hand weights. Our gazes meet in the reflection of the mirror. “I thought we had our thing,” she says through gritted teeth. “You know, our thing.”

I turn around and shrug. “It’s Easter Sunday weekend, so we’re skipping this weekend. Plus Hannah says Courtney is demanding a Saturday date night.”

“Sure, let me just plan my life around Hannah’s girlfriend,” she mumbles.

I smile and shrug.

She whirls around and throws her hands up a little but quickly lets them drop to her sides. “Okay then,” she says to Mitch. “I’m still grounded, so I’ll have to check with my mom, but maybe Saturday.”

Mitch’s rosy cheeks flare. “Maybe Saturday.”

Callie nods. “Maybe. But probably not. You should know I am definitely a glass-half-empty kind of person.”

Mitch thinks on that for a minute. “So it’s a glass-half-empty maybe then?” He holds his hand out awkwardly, like he means to shake Callie’s hand, but then just fist bumps her before leaving.

I wait for the door to shut entirely before I loudly say, “Is that a date?”

When Callie turns around, I expect to find her normally grumpy something-smells-bad expression, but it’s clear she’s brimming with excitement despite how hard she’s trying to keep a lid on it. “Maybe,” she says. “It’s a maybe date. Glass half empty, maybe.”

I rush to her and she meets me halfway, our hands clasped, as we squeal at approximately the same level of sound as a dog whistle.

After work and dropping off Callie, I sit in the driveway at home for a minute to check my text messages.

MALIK: Did you send your application in?

MILLIE: I did! Your directorial debut!

MALIK: Well, that calls for a celebration. Friday night?

MILLIE: It’s a date.

A tidal wave of excitement hits my stomach. A date! Not only does Callie have a date this weekend, but now so do I. What can I say? Love is in the air.

Inside, I find both my parents getting ready for dinner. Now, I think. This is the perfect time to tell them. With Dad here to ease the blow.

My mom spins around the kitchen island just as my dad plants a big, wet kiss on her cheek. “Your father brought home brisket, mac and cheese, green beans, dinner rolls, and peach cobbler from Melba B’s Barbecue, so I guess it’s cheat night for everyone.” She hums “Go Tell It on the Mountain” to herself as she runs back to the kitchen for a few serving spoons.

Melba B’s is my mother’s favorite—food so good she hums!—and if it’s up to her, it would undoubtedly be her last meal, but she so rarely eats it and my dad is usually the only person who can convince her otherwise.

A low sigh slips from me.

I can’t tell her I’m not going back to Daisy Ranch. Not right now. I won’t ruin this perfect night for her.

On Friday night, Malik picks me up for our date. Well, if you ask my parents, it’s a study date, and Malik is picking me up so we can go to Amanda’s, but that’s because I’m not sure what their opinion on dating is. If I had to guess, they’d prefer I just didn’t.

After much deliberation, I settled on a mint-green cotton dress with little daisy buttons sewn all around the collar—my own personal touch, obviously—and a pair of yellow flats.

When I get into his car, Malik hands me a fresh pair of socks. “You’ll need these,” he tells me.

“What are these for?” I ask. “Are we going bowling?”

His lips twitch for a second, like he’s second-guessing himself. “Would it be a problem if we were?”

I shake my head. “Only if you don’t mind getting beat by a girl.”

“Oh, so you’re a smack talker?” he asks. “Well—” His ringtone interrupts him. He glances down at his phone, resting in the cup holder. “I better get this,” he says as he pulls over to the side of a residential street.

“Hello?” asks Malik into the receiver.

I listen carefully, but I can’t make out the voice on the other end, so all I’ve got to work with is his one-sided conversation.

“Well, has he tried taking any medicine? . . . He just has to sit in a dark room and change out the reels. It can’t be that hard. . . . He’s sure he can’t? . . . Fine. Okay. Give me twenty minutes.”

Malik hangs up the phone and turns to me.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes. No,” he says. “I have to cancel tonight.”

“Oh.” I try to hide my disappointment, but it’s no use.

“It’s just there are only three of us at work who know how to change out the film reels in the projector rooms, and normally it wouldn’t matter, but one guy is visiting his internet girlfriend in New Mexico and the other guy is hung over. Or maybe he’s still drunk. I’m not sure.”

Malik works at the only movie theater in town, the Lone Star 4, if you’re not counting the drive-in. It’s one of the oldest buildings in town, too, so I guess it should be no surprise that it’s not equipped to play films digitally either. It’s a bummer not to go bowling, but I hate even more that our night has to end before it’s even begun. And then it hits me. “What if I go to work with you? Like, as your assistant.”