When we got back to the parking lot, neither of us wanted to leave. We stood by my car, hands linked, neither of us making a move to go.
"Do you want to come over?" I asked before I could talk myself out of it. "To my place?"
His eyebrows rose. "Yeah?"
"Just to hang out. Nothing... you know."
"I know." He smiled. "I'd love to."
He followed me in his car, and the whole drive, I second-guessed myself.
What am I doing? This is going to be so awkward.
But when we got there and he walked inside, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
"Want to help me make dinner?" I asked.
"I'd love to."
My kitchen was tiny compared to his.
We kept bumping into each other, his elbow hitting my shoulder, my hip brushing his, both of us reaching for the same cabinet. It wasn’t awkward at all like I expected, it was
