in the grass.
Jeffrey leaned against one of the metal supports.
“We’re terrible at this.”
I laughed.
“At dating?”
“At choosing people.”
“That might be true.”
He became quiet.
Then he asked,
“What if we never figure it out?”
“We’ll survive.”
“What if we’re both still single when we’re old?”
I looked at him.
Jeffrey held out his pinky.
“If we’re both single at sixty, we stop being idiots and find each other.”
I stared at his hand.
He wasn’t joking.
“Jeffrey.”
“I mean it.”
“Why sixty?”
“Because if we
