He was still wearing what he’d been wearing at the party—a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—but he looked a lot more rumpled. As if he might have been lying down on the couch.

“Hey,” I said.

My head hurt and I was embarrassed beyond reason.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m really sorry,” I said as a response.

He grinned at me.

“You were pretty funny,” he said, his face scrunched up in a teasing manner.

“You didn’t have to put me in your room,” I said.

“I couldn’t leave you on the dog bed,” he said.

He gestured toward it, the puppy still fast asleep.

“You could have put me in the guest room,” I said.

“People would have been coming in and out of that for a while,” he said. “Party only ended about an hour ago.”

“What time is it?” I asked, feeling completely out of sorts.

“Only three,” he said.

“Three?”

Only three.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch,” I said.

“I wasn’t,” he said. “I was going to go sleep in the guest room when I got tired.”

“You shouldn’t sleep in the guest room,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

I didn’t know what to say. Was he serious? And if he was, was it? An invitation, that is?

Could I actually take him up on it?

“You probably need some water,” Gabe said, thankfully saving me from answering. “Sit.”

He patted the couch as he got up and headed into the kitchen. I perched there, on the edge of one of the cushions, watching his dog sleep. She was very, very cute, her nose tucked under her tail. It was then that I finally directed my attention to what Gabe was watching on TV.

“It’s true,” he said when he returned with a large glass of water. “I’m a huge nerd.”

“I love this episode,” I said after I’d drunk most of it.

“Yeah?” Gabe asked.

“I mean, Data is probably my favorite character, followed by Worf, but the Picard-centric episodes are pretty spectacular.”

Gabe looked at me.

“I’m also a huge nerd,” I said, though I imagined it was less of a surprise to discover that I was a Star Trek: The Next Generation fan than to find out that Gabe Parker was one.

“Want to watch it with me?” he asked, holding up the remote.

“I should go,” I said.

But I didn’t move.

“I can call you a cab in the morning,” he said. “Come on. Watch an episode with me.”

We watched three. The one he was already watching, my favorite episode, and then his favorite. He had all of them on DVD.

Gabe made popcorn—a little bowl of plain for the dog, then sprinkling cinnamon and sugar on the one he made for us.

The whole thing felt weirdly nice. And normal.