Ally went back and forth about how angry at Hugo she really had a right to be.

On the one hand, she hadn’t chased him at all—he appeared in her office all of a sudden, offering himself up like a bucket of free candy. He had basically revealed himself to be obsessed with her. (For all Ally knew, her previous office-mate Amber-Leigh hadn’t been fired; maybe Hugo murdered her!)

But from another perspective, people were allowed to admit to crushes without suddenly being responsible for the other person’s emotional well-being from that point on. Ally had to admit that she herself had done some pretty spectacular admissions of love followed by some even more impressive disappearing acts. And so it was in that spirit she chose to text Hugo: Hey, you. Nikki told me you had an emergency. Sending good vibes and I’m holding down the fort in our shared cubicle 

Ally had agreed to take a hike with Dan around the Silver Lake Reservoir on Saturday, and so she spent the rest of the week—four eternal workdays and a Saturday morning that had the soupy essence of oatmeal—trying to figure out how to get excited about it. Wasn’t it just last Monday that she’d been holding his big, stable hand in the light installation, thinking that she’d do anything just to know him for a moment? How could a face-melting crush turn to vague dread so quickly? Was there a name in the DSM-5 for what she had?