Justin set a steaming bowl of mac and cheese in front of me. “Sorry, that’s all I have.”

I stabbed my fork into the gooey, too bright yellow meal. “No, this is perfect. I’m not super hungry, anyway.”

I should be. I’d only had three chocolate timbits all day, but my nerves over the pending night with Justin had kept my nerves too jumbled. It didn’t help that my dad and Patty had dropped by Jade’s mom’s house this afternoon to give me some money and finally see where I’d run off to. Neither one had mentioned the tornado I’d left behind in the three weeks since I’d gone, but I could tell Patty had wanted to.

It’d also been evident how much she detested my new place.

Jade and I had worked hard to rearrange and clean the place, so it looked like a presentable home. The place had come a long way from the dump I’d walked into, but there was damage to the ceilings and walls that Jade and I couldn’t fix. Plus, no matter how many times we shampooed the carpets, they still smelt like spoilt milk.

Luckily, our room had a wooden floor.

My dad’s and Patty’s visit hadn’t lasted longer than fifteen minutes, but it’d been fourteen and a half too many. For two hours afterward, I’d paced the house, unable to quell the nervous energy they’d left in their wake.

Justin sat down in front of his own bowl of mac and cheese. He frowned at it. “I could kill Gerry. He knew not to eat all the chips and Tostino’s.”

From the way Justin had ranted about his roommate since I’d arrived, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear on the news one day that Justin had gutted Gerry. I couldn’t blame Justin for his animosity, either. Gerry sounded like the roommate from Hell. He often got drunk and wrecked the apartment. Gerry smoked even though their landlord forbade it, and just the other week, he’d snuck two kittens in and hidden them in his super-hot room. Both had died of heat stroke.

I couldn’t be gladder that I hadn’t had to interact with Gerry. If I ever did, it wouldn’t go well. I was far from kind to people who abused animals.

“I promise, this is fine.”

To prove it, I popped a forkful of mac and cheese into my mouth. Somehow, I managed to keep any from falling on my shirt.

Justin grumbled for a second more, then followed my example.

Soon, we got talking about the movies we liked. I tried to convince him that David Bowie’s glorious bulge in Labyrinth only enhanced his character. Justin attempted to make me see the greatness of Under Siege.

Neither one of us would bend on our stances, but I enjoyed the lively debate.

Like all my first dates (not that I’d had many), my heart raced, and my sweaty palms made it a chore to hold anything. Regardless, I didn’t find it difficult to talk with Justin. More importantly, I don’t think I made a complete fool of myself.

We finished eating, and I offered to help Justin do the dishes.

He reached for my empty bowl. “What kind of host would that make me?”

I held it out of his fingers’ range. “No, I really want to.”

Justin’s nose crinkled, and it reminded me of a skeptical toddler, but in a cute way. “Why?”

I shrugged. “It only seems fair, since you went through all the trouble to make me food.”

That wasn’t my real reason, but I couldn’t tell him I planned on using it as an excuse to get close to him, to smell his aftershave, to study him without it seeming creepy. Even if Justin somehow didn’t find that scarily odd, I still wouldn’t want him to know. What little self-confidence I’d managed to scrape together would disappear.

“I...Okay.”

Maybe I looked ridiculous, but I put a lot of enthusiasm into washing the dishes; more than necessary. I believe it was worth it, though. In a short time, Justin’s well-toned shoulders relaxed, and our conversation flowed much more naturally.

Once Justin got going, he talked a mile a minute, mostly about his family. I didn’t mind. My parental situation was the last thing I longed to discuss. Unless, of course, I intended to ruin the night.

Multiple times our shoulders or fingers brushed. No, sparks didn’t fly, and I didn’t swoon, but it did get my heart pumping faster. I couldn’t resist his adorable, boyish charm that heightened as he discussed his life. I half focused on him while entertaining thoughts of holding his hand, of us kissing.

Justin dried the pan and put it in the cupboard next to the sink. He turned to me. “Thanks. That made it super easy. I hate doing the dishes.”

I smiled. “No problem.”

“You know, you really—” Justin sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

I leaned against the sink. “Sure. What?”

In a flash, he closed the short distance between us. Before I could react, he tilted my head up and pressed his lips to my chin.

Justin pulled back.

“W-was that your question?”

He groaned. “Damn! I meant it to be—Not—I wasn’t aiming for your chin.”

Emboldened by his genuine disappointment, I grasped his head and planted a sure, firm kiss on his mouth. His surprise allowed me to be in control of the kiss, a foreign sensation but I quite liked it. Maybe, if he agreed, I’d take charge more often (the assumption that there’d be more opportunities was hugely unfounded, but I had to hope).

I broke the kiss. “How did I answer?”

Justin’s eyes had darkened, and he cocked the perfect half-grin. “Much better than I expected.”

I ruined my sexy, dominate image by giggling.

Justin’s smile widened, and he took my hand. He led me to his bedroom.