When I walked into the apartment, Clara was on the couch, eating ice cream straight from the tub. She looked up instantly.

“Well?” she demanded. “How was it? Did you kiss? Is he secretly boring?”

I set my bag down, still processing. “It was… fine.”

Clara narrowed her eyes. “That’s your lying voice.”

“Clara.”

“Spill.”

I sighed, sinking onto the couch. “Fine. It wasn’t boring. But something happened.”

Her spoon paused midair. ...