“Uh—”
 
 “Just dinner,” he adds quickly, misinterpreting my hesitation. “No pressure.”
 
 I open my mouth, about to tell him I’m not really looking for anything, but instead, my traitorous lips blurt?—
 
 “Sure.”
 
 I immediately regret it.
 
 The second the word leaves my mouth, I want to grab it, stuff it back down my throat, pretend this never happened.
 
 Ryan’s face brightens. “Great! We’ll figure out a time later.”
 
 I nod stiffly, my entire body screamingwhat did you just do???
 
 As Ryan walks away, I swear I hear a sharp intake of breath behind me.
 
 I glance over and—yep. Brittany looks red-faced, her grip on the copier so tight her knuckles are white.
 
 Oh.
 
 Oh.
 
 Sothat’swhy she’s been weird about me lately.
 
 I don’t have time to process that, because as soon as I sit down, I do the only thing that makes sense.
 
 I text him.
 
 Me: So, guess what?
 
 Unknown Number: You finally stabbed your roommate?
 
 I snort.
 
 Me: No. Tempting, though. I just got asked out.
 
 A pause.
 
 Then—
 
 Unknown Number: By who?
 
 I hesitate, then type?—
 
 Me: Ryan.
 
 Another pause.
 
 Longer this time.
 
 Then—
 
 Unknown Number: Ryan. As in the Ryan you complained about? The one who breathes down your neck at work?
 
 I frown at my screen.
 
 Me: Okay, first of all, he doesn’t breathe down my neck. He just…supervises. A lot.