Ms. Hendrix’s office smelled faintly of chamomile and old paper. Thomas sat on the familiar couch, brass ring catching the afternoon light filtering through the blinds.

  “So, how’s your week been?”

  Thomas exhaled like he’d been holding it since Monday.

  “I’m not sure where to start. I guess I’ll put it like this: I’m working on some kind of relationship with Shoshana while simultaneously playing the role of boyfriend for Veronica. And strangely, it seems to be both of their idea. Veronica has decided no other girl gets a shot at distracting me.”

  Ms. Hendrix raised one eyebrow in that calm, devastating way of hers.

  “That’s… an interesting arrangement. Why would Veronica sign up for that? What does she get?”

  “Her parents want her dating a local boy instead of the long-distance one in Houston. I’m apparently the safe, nearby option.”

  “And how do you feel about being the safe option?”

  Thomas laughed under his breath. “I don’t have time to pine. Seminary at 5:45 with Veronica, breakfast, school, lunch with the Junior SBSO kids, Spanish help after class, Tuesday nights SBSO, Wednesday my ward youth group, phone call with Shoshana while we read Summa Theologica—sometimes for an hour—Thursday homework, Friday Shabbat dinner, Saturday deep study and the bookstore, Sunday church and crash. My calendar is basically a color-coded spreadsheet at this point.”

  Ms. Hendrix nodded slowly. “And this weekend?”

  “Regional dance up near Houston. We’re swinging by to pick Shoshana up. I’ll finally meet Veronica’s actual boyfriend. Should be… interesting.”

  “High Holy Days at the end of the month?”

  “Going up with the Mendelsons.”

  She leaned forward, voice gentle. “Thomas, what do you do when the stress builds up?”

  “I do the visualization you taught me. Or I call Eric and Wendy. Sometimes I just go hold their baby for a while. That resets everything.”

  “Good. But remember—those emotions you’ve been carrying? They’ll surface eventually. When they do, let them. It’s part of the process.”

  Saturday evening arrived faster than anyone expected.

  Thomas jogged out of the Mendelson house in the navy blazer and red tie Ruth had laid out like it was prom. Veronica waited in the driveway, blue dress matching his blazer perfectly, engine idling.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “I just talked to Shoshana,” he said, sliding in. “We’ll gas up and head out. Your boyfriend knows to meet us outside the hall?”

  Veronica smirked. “I gave him the rules—no grinding, no getting stupid. He asked why we were even going. I told him, ‘Because Thomas is.’ If he wants me, he’ll show.”

  Thomas shook his head, half amused, half terrified.

  Forty-five minutes later they pulled up to Shoshana’s house. Thomas hopped out, opened her door, then climbed into the back so the girls could sit together up front. The three of them talked the whole way to Friendswood like they’d been doing this for years.

  They parked. Thomas opened Veronica’s door, then Shoshana’s. A voice called from the next row over.

  “I don’t know whether to be jealous or grateful right now.”

  A tall kid in a white shirt and tie walked up, easy grin.

  “Mark Ziegler,” he said, offering his hand. “I feel kind of stupid for not thinking of the halfway meet-up sooner.”

  Thomas shook it. “Thomas. Mostly this is Shoshana’s doing. Veronica’s just… protective.”

  Mark laughed. “Then I owe you both. If we get stopped at the door, just say I’m Lake Jackson Ward and Veronica’s investigating.”

  Inside, the gym lights were low, the bass line of a slow song already thumping. Thomas turned to Shoshana.

  “May I have this dance?”

  They stepped onto the floor. Mark and Veronica followed a moment later.

  Halfway through the second slow song, Shoshana leaned in—just a fraction.

  Later, in the restroom, Thomas caught two girls whispering at the sinks.

  “What is with Thomas tonight? He’s not doing his usual rotation.”

  “Right? Normally he makes sure nobody gets more than three dances.”

  Back on the floor, Shoshana’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Is it true you usually don’t dance with one girl all night?”

  “Guilty. House rule I made up—three dances max, keeps everyone meeting new people. But tonight’s different.” He smiled down at her. “Tonight I’ve got you.”

  She swayed a little closer. He gently maintained the respectful gap.

  Softly: “Why won’t you let me in closer?”

  “Because wanting to and doing it are two different things. If I keep the distance, it’s not because I don’t want you closer. It’s because I do. And I know what I’m capable of when I stop being careful.”

  Shoshana studied his face in the colored lights. “That’s… deeper than I expected.”

  Time folded. Too soon Veronica appeared at the edge of the floor.

  “We gotta roll if I’m making curfew.”

  Shoshana’s face fell for half a second, then she smiled. “I’m just grateful for tonight.”

  They dropped her off first. Thomas walked her to the porch.

  “So,” she said quietly, “how does this evening end?”

  “With a kiss on the cheek or forehead. We’re not there yet.”

  She tilted her head, smiling. “Cheek it is.”

  He brushed a gentle kiss just below her cheekbone, waited until the door closed behind her, then jogged back to the car.

  Veronica waited until they were rolling again before she spoke.

  “Cheek kiss, huh? Her mom was totally watching.”

  “That wasn’t about her mom. That was about me.” He stared out at the dark farmland racing by. “Remember Malinda? First week of school? That whole thing flipped upside down—more talk about sex than trust. We never even became friends. I don’t want to do that again. And I still want to serve a mission someday. Some lines, once you cross them, change everything.”

  Veronica was quiet for a long moment.

  “Oh.”

  Then, softer: “You’re kind of a lot, Thomas.”

  He smiled into the dark. “I’ve been told.”

  She pulled into her driveway, killed the engine.

  “I had fun tonight. Real fun.”

  “Me too.”

  He walked the short block home under a sky full of Gulf Coast stars, brass ring warm against his finger, the faint taste of Shoshana’s cheek still on his lips, and—for the first time in weeks—felt like the ground under him might actually hold.

  Ms. Hendrix had been right.

  The emotions were coming.

  But tonight, they felt like something he could carry.

  Veronica (Christian chaos gremlin) — mastermind or future train wreck?

  How long until Thomas’s “three-dance rule” becomes permanent ward legend?

  Cheek kisses as a boundary: excruciating or impossibly sweet?