I look to him nervously, but move to the first box, excited to see what’s inside. I tear away the tissue paper and pull off the lid to find two enormous Care Bears sitting inside. I lift them up and cradle each one on a hip, like they’re children, and the silliness of them makes me giggle.

“Okay, so hear me out,” Andrew starts, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. “That one there, the blue one? His name is Grumpy or Grouchy or…”

“Grumpy,” I confirm for him, my mouth aching from my smile.

“Good, right. Well, Grumpy…that one’s me. He’s got this cloud that follows him around, and he’s just generally blue and mopey and shit, and he doesn’t really have any friends, other than this yellow bear here with the sunshine on it’s stomach.”

“Funshine Bear,” I answer, looking over at the yellow bear on my other hip.

“Right…wait…Funshine? That’s really his name?” Andrew asks. I nod yes.

“Wow, this is getting even lamer, and I’m really embarrassed,” he says.

“Don’t be,” I say, catching his gaze before it falls. He squints one eye, questioning me. “So far, this is really sweet. Keep going.”

He nods, his cheeks dented with the dimples of the smile he’s trying to hide. The bashful boy from our youth is coming out to play, and it makes my heart soar to see.

“Okay, well Funshine, or as I called him, Happiness…this one’s you. She’s Grumpy’s only friend in the world. And she’s the only one that can make Grumpy forget about the damn cloud stuck on his body. He needs her. Without her, he’s just not…well, without her there’s just too much of the cloud,” Andrew says, his mouth settling into a more serious smile. I notice how fast his chest is rising and falling, how hard he’s breathing. He’s scared.

I look at both of the bears and squeeze them to my body, then look back at him. “I love them. I’m keeping them with me all night,” I say, and his lips slowly curl up again.

“Good,” he nods, looking down. When he glances back up, he gestures to the second box. “Go on. Open it.”

I tuck both bears under my left arm and move to the second box, working with one hand to unwrap it. I finally get the lid off the top and when I look down, I notice a pair of pink and white ice skates that look to be my size. I flash my eyes back to Andrew’s, smiling.

“Holding your hand on the ice is the one memory I turned to when my cloud got really dark and heavy and hopeless. I’d like to take you skating tonight, at the rink, so I can hold your hand…if you’ll let me?”

He’s not breathing as hard as before, but he still sucks his bottom lip in, anxious for my answer. I nod yes quickly, then move to the third box. Before I can dig into the paper, though, Andrew places his hand on top, stopping me.

“This one comes at the end. It’s…well…it’s sort of important that I keep everything in order. When we get back from the rink, I’ll let you open it up,” he says, his head leaned to the side, his eyes pleading.

“Okay,” I say.

He’s close enough that he could kiss me. I want him to. He never does, though. Instead, his eyes dance over me, following the curve of my face and line along my shoulders. For class, I changed into one of my turtlenecks and jeans, but I crave the warm feeling of being in his clothes again.

“You look nice,” I say to him, my eyes moving to the top of his head, to the hair that’s usually stuffed under a hat or twisted in all directions. He runs his hands through it, smoothing it back again, but messing it up just enough that a few strands fall forward over his brow, somehow making him even sexier.

“This is the best I’ve got,” he says, arms outstretched. “I’m not really a suit-and-tie kind of guy.”

It’s my turn to let my eyes roam down him, his wide chest and thin waist, his arms filling the fabric of his shirt, his jeans tight around his muscular legs. I bite my lip on one side and smile through the other.

“I like this look better anyhow,” I say, peering up at him.

His lips fall open with a breath, and I hold mine, thinking that maybe now he’ll kiss me. But he closes his mouth quickly, smiling and taking a step back.

“We should get to the rink. I managed to find a half an hour that it’s not being used, and the guy doing me a favor will be pissed if we’re late,” he says.

“Okay,” I say softly, holding my bears tightly.

Andrew picks my backpack up from the floor and slings it over his shoulder, then tugs at the bears in my hand. I resist at first.