It’s something that no matter how much I read about, I don’t understand it. And that bothers me.

It pains me to interrupt their scene, but I want to.

“Excuse me,” I say.

They both look at me expectantly, but there’s warmth to it.

“I was wondering if you like that book so far?”

The woman smiles. “Oh, yes,” she says brightly. “It’s a little more scandalous than I expected, but I’m enjoying it.”

We chat about where she’s at in the book, and her husband encourages me to pull my chair over.

“No use craning your neck,” he mumbles.

Marie catches my eye as I join them, and it’s a silent See? Something is different about you!

I soon find out that Gary and Linda Dailey live in Youngstown, Ohio, but make monthly trips across state lines to visit family. They spent the morning babysitting their granddaughter and wanted to get a quick rest and coffee break before hopping back on the interstate.

I ask them at least a dozen questions about their lives and retirement. They, in turn, are curious about my schooling, interests, and plans for next year.

It’s so easy for me to be honest with them, these practical strangers, about how my heart is set on Columbia. I’m glad I am because they gush about the trips they’ve taken to New York City over the years, and I live vicariously through them.

As I write down my fifth restaurant recommendation from them in my planner, the front door chimes.

Linda’s eyes go wide, and I turn my attention to see Dylan watching me curiously.

“Oh, he’s a cute one,” Linda says a little too loudly to me.

I laugh and wave him over.

“Short practice?” I ask him.

The ends of his hair are still wet.

He nods. “The win yesterday bought us a break, apparently.” His hands hang by his side, and his gaze flickers to the table. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Oh, right, uh, Gary, Linda, this is Dylan.”

They all shake hands, and I fill them both in on surface-level details of each other.

There's a brief moment of awkwardness when I run out of things to say.

“Well, it’s probably time for us to head out,” Linda says. “But I have your email address now, so I’ll be sending you the other restaurants on my list.”

“I would appreciate it so much, thank you,” I tell her, hugging them both before they leave.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Gary says.

“Drive safely!”

With a wave, they’re out the door, and Dylan’s eyes are back on me.

“You just met them?” he asks flatly.

“Yes,” I say, noticing that he’s not moving to sit or order at the counter. “Are we going somewhere?”

He nods. “Yep. Let’s go.”

“You’re driving.” I drain the remainder of my chai and toss it.

I head to the counter, leaning over to call out to Marie, who is wrangling some paperwork in the back. “Marie, is it okay if I leave my car here for a little while?” I ask her.

“Of course,” she calls. “Heading out already? Thought it’d be a late night for you.”

“I’ll try to swing back before closing to see what cookies you have left,” I promise.

She laughs. “Works for me.”

I turn back to Dylan, whose expression is indescribable. “Lead on, then.”

When we’re in his sleek SUV, which has a logo I don’t even recognize, he finally lets out a half-chuckle, half-sigh. “So, as if it’s not ridiculous enough that you spend your Friday night doing more schoolwork, you decide to chat up the oldest people on the planet?”

“Hey! We had a great conversation.” My defense is weak, but I press on. “Were you not the one making fun of me for my social calendar? Well, look at that, I made new friends. Two of them. It was fun.”

He pulls out of the parking lot. “I think your ‘fun’ barometer is off, Reed. Talking to old people is not fun. Going out and doing wild and reckless stuff is how teenagers are supposed to have fun.”

“Is that what you had planned with your mystery date before you got stood up?” I ask curiously. “Wild and reckless stuff?”

He exhales and taps on the steering wheel as we idle at a red light. “By your standards maybe, but not by mine.”

“Coyness is not my favorite one of your traits,” I tell him.

“I didn’t realize you had favorite things about me,” he says lightly.

That is a subject I do not want to touch, so I change it. “You don’t listen to music when you drive?” I ask.

He presses a few buttons on the fancy touch screen. “I think you can set your phone up for Bluetooth if you want to play something.”

“You’re willingly letting me choose?” I ask.

“As long as it’s nothing too terrible, I can cope.”

“Wow, James barely ever lets me pick the music…”

“Another thing I have over him, I suppose.”

I don’t respond, but I choose one of Modest Mouse’s first singles, and it immediately gets rejected by him.

“Oh god, that’s the worst song,” he tells me.

“You’re the worst song,” I defend lamely, and it earns me a grunt of annoyance.

I press next on shuffle, and I’m happy to find out that Interpol’s “Untitled” seems agreeable by his standards.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask.

He turns down one of the back roads that leads to the big shopping mall in town. “If I do, are you going to be thirty percent less annoying?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Good tactic, Reed. Don’t agree to anything you’re not one hundred percent certain of. I approve.”

I sigh. “So are you going to tell me or not?”

“It’s not so much where we are going but what we are doing.”

“Too cryptic, Archer.”

“I’m just not sure it will be as fun for you as spending Friday night with two seventy-year-olds.”

“I don’t know why you’re harping on this. I realize most of your free time is spent playing mind games with Serena or whoever else you’re fooling around with these days, but if you actually sit down and have a conversation with people, especially those who are older than you, it’s actually worthwhile. They’ve lived lives almost four times as long as mine, experienced new places, and I learned a lot from talking to them in a short amount of time.”

“Everything’s a learning opportunity for you, isn’t it?” He shakes his head, like it’s painful to come to this understanding, then grins devilishly. “Well, then, I know what your next lesson can be.”

“A lesson? I’m more of a self-guided learner.”

He presses on. “And it’s the perfect way to repay you. I’ve decided that I can’t accept your help without giving you something in return.”

“I don’t want—”

“Money or your secret to get out, I know,” he says. “But it has come to my attention that you’re in desperate need of help with something.”