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Her cheeks go pink, and for a minute, she looks shy. She tugs her knees up to her chin, hiding her smile behind her legs. "You’re impossible."

"I’ve been called worse," I say. "But you seem to handle me just fine."

She laughs, then goes quiet. "I don’t know what this is," she admits. "I’m not… I don’t date either, not really. I’m a mess. I like things simple. I like routines. You’re… you’re not routine."

"It looks like we’ll have to figure this out together.”

For the first time, she doesn’t have a comeback.

We watch another episode, this time in companionable silence. I let my hand rest on the couch between us, close enough that our fingers almost touch. After a while, she shifts, and her hand slides over mine, warm and small and perfect.

I don’t move. I don’t speak. I just watch her, burning every detail into memory.

When the credits roll, she stands and stretches again, yawning. "It’s getting late," she says, a little regretful. "I’m usually in bed by ten."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

She walks me to the door, then pauses, looking up at me. "Thank you. For the pizza. For…" she waves a hand, as if to sum up the whole weird night. "For everything."

I want to kiss her. I want to slam her up against the wall and show her exactly what she does to me. But instead, I just gently touch her cheek, like she might break if I tried anything rougher.

She smiles, and it’s the softest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

"Good night, Gabe," she says, voice barely above a whisper.

"Good night, Alice," I reply and lean down to cover her soft lips with mine. Fireworks erupt behind my closed eyelids. She melts against me with a tiny gasp, and I nearly fucking lose it. Her taste, her scent, the little tremor in her body when I deepen the kiss. She’s so soft and sweet, nothing like the brash, sassy girl she pretends to be. I want to devour her whole.

I slide my hand along her jaw, thumb brushing the curve of her cheek, and tip her head back so I can kiss her deeper. Her mouth parts for me, and holy hell, she lets out a tiny moan that might short-circuit my brain. I grip the doorframe behind her to keep from pinning her to the wall and taking what I want. It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done.

She clings to my shirt, little hands fisted in the cotton, and I feel her heart pounding through every inch of her. It takes every ounce of control I possess to pull back and lay my forehead against hers. “See you soon, coffee girl.”

“Bye.” She smiles as I walk back to the elevator, heart pounding. I have no idea what comes next. All I know is, I’m all in.

And I’m never letting her go.