I close my eyes.

I take a deep breath.

Then I say, screw it.

I force my feet into action and push through the doors, jogging down the busy sidewalk with my hair and my inhibitions trailing behind me. “Dean!”

He stops in his tracks, spinning around, his mouth tipping up into a grin when he sees me running towards him. There is a distinct relief mingling with his surprise.

I come to a slow stop in front of him, fluffing my hair back and laughing lightly. “Can we do that over?”

“Please,” he chuckles, his hands on his hips, his eyes twinkling beneath the autumn sun.

“Should I drop the whipped cream again?”

Dean pretends to ponder this, scratching his jaw. “I think we can skip that part.”

I nod, then lean up on my tiptoes to circle my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, my heart against his, my mouth grazing the skin of his throat. I breathe him in, and I feel like I am home.

And holy hell, what is that cologne he’s wearing?

Is it new?

Is it legal?

“Hi,” I whisper, feeling the way he shivers against my lips.

Dean’s arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer, his tension draining with mine. He inhales deeply, exhaling his doubts and regrets against my temple. “Hi.”

It’s a hi. It’s a hello. It’s a welcome back—I missed you.

We don’t pull apart right away. We savor the feel of our warm bodies melded together in a way that makes my knees tremble and my belly flutter. I try to memorize the way he feels in my arms, hard and safe, buzzing with heat and energy and undeniable chemistry.

I only step back when my toes feel like they’re going to fall off from leaning up on them for so long. I straighten out my dress, unable to hide the tiny smile that feels permanently engraved into my cheeks. “That was better.”

His smile matches mine as we stand there toe to toe. “Much better.”

“Do you want to go to dinner tonight?”

Oh, hello, word vomit. There you are.

I inch backwards just a step, my face heating up from the bold request.

Dean’s eyes flash with something playful, something almost wicked. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Ew, no. Never.” I look away, pursing my lips, before glancing right back at him. “But do you?”

“Yes.”

I grin. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

We stare at each other, enchanted and bewitched, temporarily speechless as we absorb the implication of my invitation.

A date. With Dean.

We’ve gone from mortal enemies to two people thrown into the black pits of Hell together. We’ve shared tears, trauma, angry words, and a lot of hot, toxic sex. We’ve been through it all, and yet, we’ve never gone on a date before.

Such a simple thing is filling me with a plethora of tiny sparks, like lightning bugs fluttering around inside my heart. I smile up at him—a little shy, a little nervous, a little flirtatious. “Pick me up at seven?”