I’m watching Kelsey on her phone, like usual, trying to make myself say the words I’ve been rehearsing all morning. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to talk to her. She’s my girlfriend.

She looks up from her phone. “Everyone really liked that last picture of us together.”

“Which picture again?”

Kelsey looks shocked, and slightly annoyed. “Um, the one from yesterday, where I posted and said it’s our ten-day anniversary.”

“Right.” She can’t see it, but I’m mentally rolling my eyes.

“Oliver, that picture is a huge deal. Did you seriously not know what I was talking about?”

“I did! I was just joking,” I lie.

I can tell Kelsey doesn’t believe me, but she says, “Right. A joke.”

Ask her out, Oliver. Open your mouth and say the words already.

“We should go out,” I blurt.

“We already are?” Kelsey looks annoyed again.

“No, I mean, when we get back to Brooklyn. Like out. Like on a date. Somewhere. Together.” This isn’t coming out the way I rehearsed it in my head at all.

Kelsey’s face relaxes. “That’d be nice. Where do you want to take me? Wait, hold on, I want to record this.” She lifts her phone to take a video.

“Coney Island,” I say.

“Wait, I wasn’t recording yet. Can you say that again? But maybe say a whole sentence?”

“Right. Um, Kelsey, let’s go to Coney Island.”

Kelsey puts down her phone, looking disappointed. “Maybe a little more romantic? Think of our audience!”

“Audience? We’re not in a play.”

“I know. I meant audience as a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what?”

“Or a figure of speech. I don’t know. Do you want to say it again?” She’s lifting her phone again.

I clear my throat. “Kelsey, when we get back to Coney Island, I want to take you to Brooklyn.”

Kelsey’s face falls as she looks at me.

I realize what I’ve said. “Sorry,” I say in a small voice. “Let me try again. Kelsey, when we get back to Brooklyn, I want to take you to Coney Island. On a date.”

Kelsey beams. “Perfect.” She taps her phone. “Aaand … posted.” She’s quiet for a minute, then says, “Wow, those tweets sure do show up quickly.”

I watch her for a bit, then say, “Do you want to know where I want to take you?” I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed. It’s normal to take your girlfriend on a date.

“You already said Coney Island.”

“Yeah, but it’s a big boardwalk.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, where do you want to take me?”

She lifts her phone to record, but I say, “We don’t need to record this, do we?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“It might be cool to have some privacy. Some things just between us.”

Kelsey grins slyly as she puts her phone down. “You’re so romantic. Tell me about our date.”

Even though she’s not recording me, I still feel embarrassed, and I hear my voice shaking as I say, “We could go on the Wonder Wheel and watch fireworks.”

Kelsey waits for me to say more.

“I’d win you the biggest stuffed animal at the ring toss. And we could have hot dogs.” I thought there was more, because as I’m saying the words out loud, I realize how lame the date sounds.

Kelsey smiles. “Sounds good. Except the hot dogs. They gross me out.”

I don’t know why I feel disappointed by her reaction, but I don’t think she notices my disappointment. She’s back on her phone.

I wonder if Flora is awake yet. If she’d be proud of me for saying something romantic. Logically, I know she should be happy for me—I’m following her advice from the girl handbook, after all.

But part of me wonders if I should have taken the advice.

Because nothing about quarantine is logical.