asks, looking delighted.
Rossum smiles, cheeks flushing. “Probably? I don’t know. She told me it was a meet-and-greet for Jewish seniors, but . . .”
“Did you get any voter commitments?” I ask.
“Lots. And a couple of phone numbers.”
Maya giggles. “Wow.”
“What about you guys?” asks Rossum.
“You mean did we pick up any Jewish seniors?” Maya shoots back.
Rossum snorts. “That is definitely what I meant.”
“Not yet.” Maya nudges me. “Maybe your grandma can set me up with a bat mitzvah date.”
Gabe grins. “Isn’t Jamie—”
“So!” I say quickly, turning back to Rossum. “I was wondering . . . could we get a selfie?”
“Of course!” Rossum says. “Let’s do it. Right here?”
Gabe’s face brightens. “Actually, why don’t I get some pictures of you three together for Insta!”
Soon, we’re being ushered out the side by Gabe, who suddenly has very strong opinions about natural sunlight. “Right there. Brick wall. Great. Big J, you stay in the middle.”
I look back at him, confused. “I’m not—”
“Not you. Other Big J. Bigger J.”
Rossum leans toward me. “He calls you that too?”
I laugh. “Yup.”
“Great. Great. Okay, everyone, look at me. And . . . smile!”
“Wait!” Maya bursts out of formation, jogging toward Gabe. “Will you take one with my phone?”
“Oh, good call,” Rossum says. “If you post it on Instagram, tag me! Then I can follow you.”
Maya looks like she might burst. “Oh! Okay, yeah!”
“Aww, cuz.” Gabe smiles knowingly at me from behind his phone. “Bet you wish you had a ’gram!”
“I’m starting one,” I say. Out loud, apparently.
Maya grins. “Oh, Jamie! That’s awesome!”
Well, now I kind of have to, right? Because what could be a better inaugural picture than a shot with Maya—and Jordan freaking Rossum?
Ten minutes later, Gabe heads back inside to make phone calls—and Rossum heads out to his car. The minute he pulls out of the parking lot, Maya presses her hands to her mouth, letting out a muffled scream.
“Oh my God oh my God oh my God.” She’s bouncing again—almost dancing. “That just happened. Look.” She waves her phone in front of my face. “Look how cute we are. Ahh! Okay, I’m texting you this.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Got it!”
Maya hugs me. “And it’s about time you got on social media. Your grandma will be so happy. She told me you’re too cute not to be on Instagram.”
I nod. “Sounds like Grandma.”
Maya smiles up at me. “Well, it’s true.”
There’s a tiny, fluttery yank below my stomach. Is Maya . . . flirting with me?
Nope. No way. She’s just comfortable calling me cute because we’re so clearly, unambiguously platonic. After all, she was cosigning Grandma when she said it. So she probably means it in a grandma way.
“We have to take a selfie together too,” she announces, “so you can post it on your account. That way, when you’re a famous congressman, you’ll remember me. I’ll always be your first Instagram selfie.”
I smile. “You really think I’d forget you?”
“Nah.” She smiles back. “I won’t let you.”
The next thing I know, her face is smooshed against mine. I snap the picture, and then bring my phone back to show Maya.
“Okay, am I just in a good mood, or is this the greatest selfie ever taken?”
I grin. “I think you have a Rossum high.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yup. Giddy, glowing, can’t stop smiling.” I look at her. “You have all the symptoms.”
“Sounds serious,” Maya says.
“It is.” I nod. “I better document this.” I hold my phone up in front of my face, camera-style. Maya leans back against the loading dock railing, and I swear, her eyes are shooting off sparks. She presses her hands to her cheeks, smiling hugely.
I sneak a peek at the photo, before looking back up at Maya.
She’s so beautiful. Just ridiculously beautiful.
Maya wrinkles her nose. “Am I doing the eye thing?”
“The eye thing?”
She widens her eyes to demonstrate. “Like the big bullfrog eye thing. I don’t know. I think I do it when I’m trying not to blink.”
“You look perfect,” I say.
Maya looks up at me. “Okay.”
The air feels suddenly charged.
She clears her throat. “So, I guess we better get you home so you can set up your account.”
“My account.” I scratch my neck. “Should I follow Sophie? I’m kind of scared to follow Sophie.”
“Definitely follow Sophie,” she says, falling into step beside me. “But follow me first. Oh my God. Now you can actually see my pictures!”
I inhale quickly. “I have to tell you something.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiles expectantly.
I stare at my feet. I don’t have a clue how to begin. “Okay. I feel