Zeke grins manically as she steps up to me and pats my bicep, chuckling at her own joke. I offer my own weak laugh in return and jolt when she wraps an arm around my waist in a half hug. She’s got a surprisingly strong grip. I flounder, trying to decide how to reciprocate; eventually, I settle for gentle pats on her upper back. Judging by Zeke’s face, this looks as awkward as it feels.
