“If you say overdressed I’m going to punch you.”

“—ridiculously hot.”

Brian clears his throat. “I think you mean beautiful, right?”

“Yes, sir, Sir Sanders, sir.”

Brian pats my back. “You need condoms? I buy ’em in bulk so I can spare a few.”

“Dad!”

“Your dad seems really happy.”

“It’s the Misty mystique,” she says, almost proudly. “He’s so love-sick. It’s sweet.”

I settle a hand on her leg and start the drive back up to my house. When we enter the gates, she asks, “Did you forget something?”

“No. This is where we’re having our date.”

“Oh. Maybe I am overdressed.”

“You’re not overdressed. Are you disappointed?”

“Not at all.”

I drive us past my apartment, past the main house, and she sits higher, looks around. “We going to the cabin?”

“No.”

“Then where are we going?”

I stop the car, face her. “Hi,” I say.

She smiles, her lips a light shade of red. “Hi.”

“You really do look nice.” I lean forward, run my nose along her neck. “And you smell incredible.” It’s true. She does. I noticed it the moment I was close enough to sniff her.

“It’s the same perfume I wore on our first non-date,” she tells me, and I already knew that. I spent an entire day in the perfume section at the mall trying to find the same one. I didn’t. But I could never get the scent out of my mind. “So where are we going?” she asks again.

I pull back, hands on the wheel, and we start moving again. “It’s a surprise.”

We drive for another two minutes and thirty-eight seconds until Lachlan comes into view, jumping up and down holding a cardboard sign in the shape of an arrow that reads Valet. “They’re here!” he shouts. “They’re here! They’re here!”

“What’s going on?” Laney asks, her eyes as wide as her smile and I turn the car left, toward the lake, toward Logan standing in a bright green suit.

I stop the car next to him, and he opens Lane’s door, helps her out of the truck. “Good evening, Madam. Fuck, you look hot.”

“Quit it,” I say, handing him the keys.

“Where’s my tip?” he asks at the same time Leo says, standing in a suit behind a makeshift host stand we stole from the props department in the drama room, “Table for two?”

Lane grasps my arm to her chest, giggling with excitement. “What is happening right now?” She doesn’t realize that this is just the beginning, that I’d been planning this for longer than I’d like to admit.

“This way,” Leo says, taking two sheets of paper (menus) and leading us through the woods, toward the lake, the dock.

“Oh my God,” Lane whispers, her feet glued to the ground. She looks out over the lake, and I look at her. I find myself smiling, watching her take in the view of the fairy lights hanging above the dock, a single table and two chairs set up at the end, all items leftover from Lucy’s wedding. My brothers and I had spent the entire afternoon since we got home from school setting it up. Luckily, it’s a calm evening, no wind, no rain. Just the onset of the dipping of the sun behind the horizon making those eyes a fiery orange. “Lucas, this is…”

“What our first date should’ve been a long time ago.”

“Please to follow me,” Leo says, his Italian accent horrid.

Lane laughs, finds her feet, and we follow him to the table. I pull out her seat and look down her cleavage (I’m a gentleman and a dude), then I take my spot opposite her.

“Here’s to you, your meals for the evening, signora,” Leo says, setting the menu in front of her. I should’ve paid him extra to wear a fake mustache and a fedora. As soon as he leaves, Laney takes my hand resting on the table. “Luke, this is all too much.”

It’s not enough. “Have you seen the menu?”

Her eyes drop to the menu, then she gasps, and I’ve never been more in love with her than I am at this moment, with the sun setting, her dark hair in that braid I love. She’s here. With me. For me. Finally. And then she laughs and this time, reality doesn’t shift. Doesn’t change. Because reality is perfect. She’s perfect. We’re going to be perfect, Laney. You’ll see.

“This is from Pino’s?” she asks. Her favorite dishes from her favorite restaurant because I’m that good. “But Pino’s doesn’t do take out. How did you…” She looks at me, makes me feel like a god.

I shrug. “I worked on the head chef’s remodel over the summer. I called in a favor.”

She offers a smile. So shy, so sweet, so Laney.

The twins walk up the dock, matching suits, a food tray each. “No!” Laney says through a giggle. “How much did you have to pay them to do this?”

I shake my head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Luke!” She shows me her hands. “I’m, like, shaking with excitement right now!”

We eat the food, and she makes those sounds, and I chuckle. When she asks what’s funny, I tell her, “I just wish I was the one causing you to make those sounds.”

She doesn’t skip a beat. “Me, too.”

I choke on my food.

“What?” she says, shrugging. Casual Laney. “Don’t think I forgot about Saturday night. You left me all frustrated and I had to, you know, take care of it myself.”

“Oh my God.” I cover my face, try to ignore the stirring in my pants. I should walk around to her side, bend her over the table and take her right here. Right now. And I’ll show her… she’ll never be able to get off on her own again.

“Dessert,” Linc and Liam say in sync.

I jump in my seat. When the fuck did they get here?

Laney laughs at me, and I shake my head, glare at her. “You’re bad,” I mouth.

She waits for the boys to leave. “I can be bad,” she says, and I fucking love Dirty Laney.

After the phenomenal dinner—her words, not mine—I drive us to the movies, help her out of the truck, and hold her hand to the ticket booth I’ve spent many unpaid hours “working.”

“Two please, Evan,” I tell the kid behind the counter, pushing over my cash through the window. By now, I know almost everyone Lane works with, and they know me.

He pushes my cash back. “Employees get in for free.”

“I’m not an employee.”

He points to Lane. “But she is.”

I sigh. “Look, this is kind of a do-over date because I messed up the first time we did this, and she paid for her ticket when I should’ve paid—”

“That’s kind of a dick move,” Evan tells me.

Laney chimes in, “Technically, it wasn’t a date.”

“Still.” Evan shrugs. “I didn’t make you pay for your ticket on our first date.”

“Seriously?” I look between the two of them.

Lane rolls her eyes, puts her hand on my chest because she knows I’m two seconds away from opening that side door and—“We got in for free, Evan,” she says. “No one paid.”