She must not have seen I was talking to a fellow tenant when the headlocking began, but she’s certainly gotten the message now because suddenly we’re both standing straight, shoulder to shoulder, like schoolkids caught skipping math class. Jessie wordlessly passes me the double fudge cookie she just went into the shop to buy for me.

Frida’s eyes follow the path of the cookie. Her gaze darts from Jessie to me to the cookie and back to Jessie.

She’s doing salacious arithmetic in her mind, I can see it. She’s preparing to sprint to the top of the building where she keeps her messenger pigeons. In T-minus ten seconds, the entire city shall know that Eliot loves Jessie.

“Girlfriend?” Frida says, a menacing glee in her eyes.

I look down at Jessie and cock my head in question. She’s all messy bun, sweaty workout clothes, and that expression that just kills me. Like her face is perpetually saying I’m in if you’re in, Eliot.

I put my arm around her shoulders and kiss her messy hair. “Girlfriend,” I confirm to Frida.

Frida’s off and going, words flying out of her mouth at warp speed. Apparently she’s got a lot to say about me, Jessie, and, I assume, the cookie. But as the three of us start walking together, I gotta admit, I’m not listening. I’m too busy smiling down at Jessie, who is raising her eyebrows back at me. I tangle my fingers with hers the way I always do when we walk around in public, so that everyone will know that this sweet-hearted little toughie chose me.

When we get back to our building, we wave goodbye to Frida and duck together into Jessie’s apartment, fingers linked. I spend so much time down here that it’s starting to feel a little bit like my apartment as well. I haven’t brought it up with her yet, but my busy, busy brain has started to wonder what it might be like if all my stuff, ya know, lived with all her stuff. My apartment upstairs hasn’t really felt like home in a long time anyhow.

Jessie locks her door and turns and gives me the look. It’s my favorite look of hers. It’s the one she gave me right before our first kiss. Where her mouth is smirking but her eyes are happy. She takes a big step toward me.

“I’m sweaty,” I warn her, but her arms go around my neck anyway.

I grin down at her, getting a kick out of our six-inch height difference the way I always do. In so many ways, to me, Jessie is larger than life. The strongest, the fiercest. She also happens to be a little bit of a peanut and I die for it on a regular basis.