"Okay," Sabina says, forcefully closing Mary Jane's laptop. "What's your deal?"

Mary Jane glares at her. "What's your deal? I didn't even get to save that document. That's my final essay, you know."

"You didn't write a word for shit," the older counters, scoffing as she rolls her eyes. She perches herself on Mary Jane's desk and plays with the end of her ponytail. "So? What's got you so happy and giddy these past few weeks?"

Andy jumps off from her bed and stalks towards them with crossed arms. "Yeah. We barely see you around anymore, MJ, and there's something off about you."

Despite the ambush, Mary Jane can feel her lips twitching into an amused smile as she reaches out and pinches Andy's cheeks. "Aw, look at you when you're trying to be angry, bub. You're so cute."

Sabina slaps her hand. "Don't change the subject, missy." She narrows her eyes. "Is it your boy toy?"

"He's not my—"

"What's his name?" Andy shoots, looking concerned now. "Is this the same person that made your body sore before?"

Mary Jane wants to slam her head against the table. "Yes. And I want him to do it again."

"Shut up, whore," Sabina snaps, pointing a finger at her. "How could you date him and not tell us? I thought you were only hooking up with the guy!"

The ginger raises her hands in exasperation. "I didn't mean to! It just never comes up! All of us are heading towards finals, you know!"

"We literally live together! How hard is it to spare a second and say, 'Hey, Sab, Andy, my bestest friends in the world, I'm dating the guy who rearranged my guts.' Huh?"

Mary Jane scratches her chin. "Is 'bestest' an actual word?"

Sabina snatches a pillow off Andy's bed.

Mary Jane raises her arms, palms open, in defense. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry! Happy now?"

"No," Andy huffs, pouting. She takes a seat on Mary Jane's desk and swings her legs. "Tell us about this guy."

"Name, age, university, major, hometown, height, how many exes, how many dates have you gone to, does he eat his cereal by pouring the milk first or the cereal, and dick size," Sabina says, planting her hands on her hips.

The ginger's jaw drops open. "You—you're so shameless, fucking hell. I'm not telling you his dick size. His name is Adrian. That's all you need to know."

Andy and Sabina both protest, and the ginger fights her smile as she stands and walks towards her closet to look for something to wear.

They went ice skating almost two weeks ago. Adrian didn't know what to do with his feet, and Mary Jane had to help him, and they were holding hands and laughing and—just the memory of it makes Mary Jane's heart grow warm. It was the most fun she'd had on a date (not that she went to a lot), and as much as she doesn't want to admit it, although she's coming to terms with it, she's excited for date number four. Everything after number three weren't dates (according to Adrian), when they met up in the arcade or when they went out for street food. This time, number four, they're meeting in his apartment, and Adrian's cooking.

"You better arrange a meeting with him and us," Sabina tells her threateningly, tapping her perfectly-manicured nails against the table as she shoots her a glare. "I have to decide if this guy is worth it."

"Yeah," Andy agrees enthusiastically.

"The meeting, MJ. I will personally give this guy castration anxiety if I don't meet him in the next week."

"You won't find him, he's not on social media."

"Not on—whatever. I don't care. You know I'll find him regardless. Don't test me."

Funny thing is, Mary Jane is sure Sabina would be able to do it. Huh. Now that she thinks about it, why isn't Sabina helping her find—

"Does this mean she's over Seth?" Andy whispers to Sabina.

Mary Jane bites her lip as she goes through her clothes, pretending not to hear.

"Hope so," says Sabina in return. "Hey, babe. Black instead of red," she tells Mary Jane, when she sees her open her drawer of lingerie.

Mary Jane sends her a flying kiss. "Thanks."

She doesn't think about Seth. Not until later, anyway.

*

Adrian's apartment looks nice.

He lives alone, and it's definitely spacious enough for one person, but somehow, it doesn't feel cold or empty or too large. Mary Jane can feel a sense of home in it, too, and she's glad—somehow, the thought of Adrian feeling lonely in this kind of space doesn't sit well with her.

When she arrives, Adrian's all done cooking, and it smells heavenly. Mary Jane frowns as she stands over the kitchen counter, watching him wash his hands. "I can't believe you didn't let me help you."

Even with his back facing her, she knows that there's a teasing smile on his lips when he says, "You have a personal chef, don't you?"

Mary Jane's frown deepens as she rubs her arms. "I mean...yeah, but..."

"It's fine," the boy says, laughing. "You can help me some other time."

Some other time. "Really?"

"Cute," Adrian murmurs, taking off his apron. He spreads his palms over the counter on the opposite side and fixes Mary Jane with a stare. "Yeah. My sister and I used to do cook-offs all the time."

Mary Jane blinks. Adrian's talking about his family. "You have a sister."

He keeps his expression carefully unreadable when he nods. "Yeah. We used to be close, but...anyway, we try to see each other whenever we can. She still lives in Faircoast, doesn't want to leave the town."

Her eyebrows raise. "Faircoast. That's far."

"Yeah. I used to win. The cook-offs."

Mary Jane purses her lips. "Sure you did."

Adrian narrows his gaze and points at the table. "Sit down. I'm going to serve the food and it'll be the best meal you've ever tasted."

And Mary Jane finds this so cute. "I can help set the table. I feel bad for not lending a hand—you did all the cooking."

"I wanted to cook for us," Adrian says, moving around the counter to gently push her away. "Sit down. Help me next time."

For us. Mary Jane hears his voice echo in her ears, ringing so loudly, even as she takes her seat.

She's smiling. She's smiling so hard all throughout dinner—the meal does taste fantastic. She lets Adrian know this, and he wears a proud and smug grin that makes Mary Jane's heart beat a little faster.

And she knows this is dangerous. This is really dangerous. But she can't seem to find it in herself to care.

After they eat, they clean up together—Mary Jane does the dishes (she insisted), and Adrian dries them. The house echoes with laughter when Mary Jane accidentally sprays him with water, and Adrian looks mad—his eyes are shut as water drips down his hair and face, and oh God, he looks so good, and Mary Jane's apologizing profusely with her free hand covering her mouth in horror ("Oh my God, I am so sorry, oh my God, are you okay? I'm so sorry, Adrian—"), and then the next thing she knows, he's grabbing the spray and pointing it at her, and Mary Jane doesn't even have time to react and she's drenched.

"Real mature," she says, huffing, taking the towel he offers to her.

Adrian's still laughing, and his face is still wet, and Mary Jane wants to kiss him. "You started it."

"I thought you were mad," Mary Jane whines, features drawing together. "I was going to kick myself out of the house."

"Over something so stupid? Yeah, you're not getting away that easily," Adrian answers, taking the towel from her. He steps forward and cups her face gently with one hand, and the other carefully dries her skin with the cloth. "We haven't even gotten to the movie and cuddling part yet."

He says it so easily, so naturally, that Mary Jane feels like her words are stuck in her throat.

Adrian dries a little bit of her hair, too. "Sorry I kind of ruined your hair and makeup."

"It's fine," she mutters, looking up at him. His eyes are big, Mary Jane notices. She can't pinpoint what exactly the color is, but they're light and pretty, and his eyelashes were long. He really is handsome. "I don't really care."

"You must've spent hours doing your makeup."

"Not really. Trained myself to do it faster."

"I'm glad you don't care," whispers Adrian, putting his arm down. He's a lot taller than her, so he has to bend his head a little. When they kissed before, Mary Jane had to pull him down. "You're beautiful even without it."

Mary Jane takes the towel from him and gestures for him to crouch. "Stop trying to flatter me."

"You're blushing," he notes teasingly, bending his knees so Mary Jane can reach his head. "You rarely blush, you know."

"Shut up," Mary Jane mutters, drying his hair. "I'm sorry again."

"Stop apologizing. I haven't laughed this hard in years."

Years? Mary Jane wants to ask, but it's clear Adrian regrets what he said, because he quickly changes the subject, saying, "We should finish the dishes then get to the movie."

The ginger nods, finishes drying him off, then steps back. "There. All done."

They work together quietly, but it doesn't feel awkward. It feels natural. Adrian's bumping her hip every once in a while, and when she looks at him, he just flashes her a blinding smile.

Mary Jane's a little worried for her heart.

The two of them head to the couch, and Adrian tells Mary Jane to pick any movie while he goes to get some blankets. She chooses a rom-com she knows Andy loved before and hopes that Adrian doesn't mind.

When he comes back, he just shrugs at her movie choice and pulls the blanket over the two of them. "I'm okay with anything, beautiful. I'm here for the cuddles."

Mary Jane smacks his shoulder, but he takes that chance to grab her wrist and pull her towards him.

For a moment, Mary Jane freezes. Holding hands would've been fine, but this is...

"If you don't feel comfortable enough, tell me and I'll let go," Adrian tells her in a low voice, lips near her ear, arms coming around her small frame. "Don't wanna force you."

Slowly, she relaxes. Lets her body fall into his, and it's as warm as she remembers and it's scary—how much they fit together so perfectly. She lays her head on his chest and pulls her knees up to his lap. "Play it."

Adrian leans against the couch and presses play.

Mary Jane makes it into half an hour before she realizes she doesn't know what the hell the movie's about.

Because she can't exactly concentrate on the screen. She can hear his heartbeat, and it's fast, just as fast as hers, and he smells so good that Mary Jane can't resist anymore.

She tucks her head against his neck and presses her lips to his skin.

Adrian sucks in a deep breath. "MJ."

She hums in response. Kisses his skin again, and it feels addicting. "You aren't even watching the movie, either."

"And how'd you know that?" he murmurs, and his voice comes out a little out of breath. He tightens his grip on her hips. "Fuck, stop, c'mere." He wraps his hand around the back of her neck and stares at her. "Wanna kiss you so bad. Can I?"

Mary Jane doesn't give him an answer—just leans forward, and—his lips are as soft as she remembers as they slide across her own; it's a little clumsy, too desperate, before settling together easier.

She clutches the front of his shirt in his hands to pull him impossibly closer, and the kiss is slow and lazy and sweet, but Mary Jane wants more.

"Slow down," Adrian whispers, pulling away, but Mary Jane's chasing after his mouth again, claiming his lips in another searing kiss as she traps his bottom lip between her teeth, sucking it gently, and Adrian groans.

Mary Jane's mind is fuzzy and clouded and she's surrounded by his scent, and then Adrian's pushing her back against the sofa and he's hovering above her, and his hands snake under her shirt and around the curve of her waist as his lips kiss down her throat.

And she closes her eyes, arches her back, pulls him closer—but then there's one name that suddenly pops into her head.

"The fact," she blurts out.

And then she wants to slap herself—what the fuck did I just say?!

For a moment she prays Adrian didn't hear it, but there's literally no way he couldn't have. Adrian stops, keeps his head near her own. "What?" he asks, confused, and he's panting, so out of breath.

Mary Jane wants to punch herself. She shuts her eyes tightly and purses her lips. "Nothing."

"No, I heard you," Adrian says calmly, still doesn't move. "What'd you say?"

Oh, shit. "The fact," she repeats miserably. "About Seth."

Adrian raises his head. Finally looks at her. "Right," he says, and there's nothing written on his expression, and God. I messed up. "Right, right. Oh, shit, yeah, I get it."

Mary Jane's eyes widen when he pushes himself off of her and runs a hand tiredly through his face. "No, wait, Adrian—"

He gets up and turns the TV off. Tosses the remote on the couch. "Seth did nothing but party around and do drugs. Have sex. Like I said, he was an asshole."

And Mary Jane knows she messed up. She really did—she shouldn't have mentioned him at all. But hearing Adrian say those words so harshly—it's not the Seth she knew. But nothing comes out of her mouth but, "Really?"

Adrian's eyes are emotionless. "Yeah. Stop looking for him. I'll walk you out."