He slid off the bed and wrapped his arms around me, staring down at me. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded and tucked my hair behind my ear. “My mom’s going to be home in a little while. I have to get back.”

His nod was somber and jerky. He held me close and we rocked from side to side in the early morning sun.

He walked me outside and I was still so lost in the battle between dream and reality that I wasn’t sure which side of that wall I was leaning toward.

“Let me walk you home.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I don’t want to risk her seeing us, if traffic was light on the way back.”

“I don’t want you to go.” He laced his fingers through mine.

My heart skipped into triple time. “You should come to my place for dinner. My mom’s working tonight, but I was going to make shrimp risotto for her before she left, and there’ll be a lot left over. I know it’s nothing too exciting like beef wellington or lobster thermidor or anything like that, but…”

His eyes widened.

Flames licked along my jawline. Did that sound like a proposition? Did I want it to be? “I-I figured there would be a lot left over and you’d be hungry.” I ducked my head feeling idiotic about springing a dinner on him like he was my boyfriend or something. “Not like a date or anything. Not like we’re seeing each other.”

“What side of town do you think I’ve lived on my whole life, Bay? I don’t even know what those meals are, but whatever you make sounds like the best thing I’ll ever have.” He lifted my chin and pressed his lips against mine, saying the words against them. “I’d take you on a date right now, but I don’t think you’re ready for that. But make no mistake about it, Bay. We are seeing each other.”

I tried to pull my face away. My splotchy, embarrassed, probably still sleep-creased face.

He held on for a second before letting me go. “I’m serious.” The intensity of his gaze melted away some of my worry.

The lump in my throat choked me. All I could manage was a nod. A stunned, stuttering nod.

He kissed me again, strong, deep and over too quickly, before letting me walk away. Our fingers stayed intertwined until they slipped free, and we brushed fingertips before losing the connection.

I looked back over my shoulder at least twenty times before I finally rounded the corner of his block and rushed home.

I showered and changed into my pajamas, messed up my bed like I’d been there all night, and came downstairs to cook sausage and put together the breakfast enchiladas. Sausage, cheese, bacon and eggs with tortillas—it was hard to go wrong, and so much better than when we used to have pot roast or chicken alfredo for breakfast. I’d learned to cook early, and found ways to compromise between me not wanting a steak at eight am and my mom not feeling like French toast for her dinner. Really, though, who’d have a problem with that?