I walked to the kitchen, stepped into his space without brushing against him, and reached for the takeout bag. "You want to eat now, or—"
He uncrossed his arms. "Oh, right. I get it now. The flowers are a vibe. I brought the wrong energy. I thought this was a hang on the couch, complain about practice, maybe sneak in a kiss before I leave kind of night."
"Is that what you want?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what did you mean?"
I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "I meant… I didn't know if this was that kind of night."
"It doesn't have to be."
He nodded once, and his voice dropped to a whisper, "But what if I want it to be?"
I didn't answer. Not with words.
I stepped forward until there was nothing between us but the sound of our breathing. I reached up, one hand at the edge of TJ's jaw, letting my fingers settle there.
"I'm not good at first moves," he said.
I tilted my head. "You kissed me outside the Colisée."
"That was a moment."
"This is one, too."
He leaned into the touch slightly. "You sure?"
"I've been sure since you asked if the flowers were for you."
His laugh was soft. "You should know I'm gonna overthink everything after this."
"Not tonight." I kissed him.
He melted into it like he'd been waiting. Like he'd been holding still in a crowded room and finally found a resting place. His arms wrapped around my waist.
The kiss deepened.
When we finally broke apart, he whispered, "Okay. Yeah. That felt real."
I nodded. "Good."
"Should we, uh—go to the couch?"
I shook my head, then tipped it toward the hallway. "No. This isn't a couch night."
He looked at me, then past me, then back. "Bedroom?"
I held out my hand.
He took it, and we walked together.
My hand in his wasn't urgent. It was steady. TJ's thumb brushed the inside of my wrist once, as if he were checking to make sure it was all still real.
I pushed open the bedroom door. No music or flickering candles. Only soft lamplight and clean, crisp sheets.
He stopped a foot inside, like he wasn't sure where to stand.