"You look...cheerful."

Andy beams at Johann from behind the counter. "Thank you!"

"Everything okay now?" he asks her with a returning smile, leaning against the wood as he waits for Andy to finish packing his order. "You seemed down recently."

"Absolutely perfect," she answers honestly, tying the purple ribbon around the box. "My...boyfriend and I had a fight."

Boyfriend. He's still her boyfriend. The word makes Andy giddy.

Johann's eyebrows raise so far up his forehead. The surprise on his baby-like features makes Andy laugh. "You—you have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh," he mutters, grabbing the box. "Oh, alright then. I'm glad you're smiling again, Andy."

"Me too. Thanks for coming by, Johann," she tells him reaching across the counter to hug him with one arm. "I'll see you in class. We're starting water polo, so I'm trusting you to please keep me alive."

"You got it," he promises, and tips his chin up at her with a grin. "Bye, gorgeous."

She sticks her tongue out at him, and her friend's laughing as he leaves the shop.

Just then, Andy's phone buzzes inside her pocket, and since there aren't any customers striding up the counter, she thinks it's alright to check it—her shift is over in almost less than an hour, anyway. Just this once.

Sunshine, you're getting on my nerves.

Andy's confused. Um, I'm sorry? I haven't seen you today yet...?

Rhysand takes a few minutes to reply. I just walked past Baked and you look pretty, it's stressing me out

Andy slaps a hand to her cheek as her skin begins to warm. She looks up at the door and finds no sign of the tall, dark-haired, and incredibly handsome man. She types her response with shaking fingers. You can't do this to me!!!!

Rhysand doesn't reply.

Andy bites her lip and sends another text. What are you doing walking past my work place without saying hi? >:(

Don't pout. I'll pick you up after your shift.

Time doesn't go faster—in fact, Andy thinks it slows down even more. But as soon as the clock hits, she's running outside, and Rhysand kept his promise—he's waiting for her beside the Jeep with a lollipop in his mouth, and curled around his hand is a small bouquet of purple baby's breath.

Andy's breath catches in her throat as she slows her steps. And stops when she's a few feet away, heart stuttering.

"What?" Rhysand raises an eyebrow, pushing the lollipop against his cheek. Like he's not holding flowers in his damn hand and making Andy's chest combust.

Her hands find her cheeks—an immediate reaction. "I told you not to do this to me ever again," she squeaks, embarrassed, happy, and giddy, all at the same time.

When he smiles, revealing his dimple, Andy knows he did this on purpose. "Just thank me, Sanford."

She turns around quickly and presses a hand against her heart in a helpless attempt to calm it down, before walking the few steps left to close the distance between them. When she's close enough, Rhysand holds out the flowers.

"For your inner romantic," he says, eyes glinting.

Andy grips the bouquet hard and stares up at him. "...what's the occasion?"

He opens the door for her. "What, I can't be sweet as shit just because?"

Andy giggles and climbs up the passenger seat. "You can. Thank you."

Rhysand rounds the car and starts the engine. He places one hand on Andy's bare thigh and looks at her. "Like I said, I was stressed out."

Andy's hiding her face in the flowers while Rhysand drives, and when she peeks at him at the corner of her eye, there's a teasing, half-smile playing on his lips.

They get dinner and ice cream at Carver Creamery & Good Eats—Rhysand orders cherry vanilla, while Andy opts for a chocolate raspberry cheesecake flavor with sprinkles and cookies on top. They finish their desserts in the car while the radio's playing some 2000s jams, and Andy turns up the music.

"Okay, I can rap Eminem's part," Andy boasts, licking the ice cream off her spoon.

Rhysand gives her a look. "No, you can't."

"Yes, I can! Watch." Andy sits up and puts the cup down in between her legs. She clears her throat and waits for his verse to come.

Rhysand's eyebrow raises when she starts the verse strong, throwing gang signs at him—and she misses some of the words, but otherwise, she got most of it right. She'd give herself an eight.

"No, that was a seven," Rhysand argues with a half-smile, seemingly amused. "You missed a line."

Andy huffs and scoops another spoonful of her dessert. "I rap for you and you only give me a seven? Why am I dating you again?"

"Because I got you ice cream," he answers lowly, pointedly staring at her cup. "Even though that shit is probably too sweet and unhealthy for you."

"It's good, baby, you should try it."

He shakes his head.

Andy pouts. "Come on, just a small scoop."

Rhysand sticks his spoon in his ice cream and looks at her. "Rap the third verse for me and I'll consider it."

Andy crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her gaze at him. "You just want me to embarrass myself again."

His lips curve upwards. "Your rapping amuses me. And no, actually, I want you to be as comfortable with me as possible."

Andy sighs and pretends to think about it. "I have a talent fee, you know. You're exploiting artists."

Rhysand leans over the console. "Then here's my payment." He gives her a quick kiss on the lips.

Andy fists her hand on his shirt and pulls back, the redness spreading to her cheeks. "You're a flirt."

"Third verse is coming," he says nonchalantly, leaning back against his seat once more and taking a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He watches her, expectant.

Andy goes through the third verse after a deep breath—she reenacts a scene of two lovers having a fight when a bit of a dialogue comes, and Rhysand laughs a bit, mouth spreading wide.

Andy loves his laugh. Loves seeing him like this.

Rhysand gives her a ten.

Andy cheers and scoops up a little of her dessert. "Say ah."

He drops the smile and rolls his eyes at that, but leans in closer anyway and accepts the spoon she feeds him.

Rhysand's face immediately scrunches up in disgust. "Ah, fuck, that's too sweet, Sanford."

"You have no taste," Andy tells him, sticking her tongue out.

"Just a preference," he counters, pulling out of his parking space. "Let's go home."

Andy hums and finishes the last of her dessert. "Oh, do you think we should've gotten Jenner some—oh my God." She reaches over and turns up the music with a gasp. "I love this song! This isn't a 2000 jam anymore, though—nothing short of," she starts to sing loudly, tapping her fingers against her thigh, "being a complete tragedy without you—"

Rhysand glances at her as he drives. "Just Jupiter?"

"Yes!" Andy squeals, raising her fist. "I love his songs."

He shakes his head and mumbles fondly, "'Course you do." And then endures the rest of her singing all the way home.

It's quiet when they arrive—Jenner's already asleep. Rhysand and Andy head up to his studio silently, his fingers enveloping hers.

Rhysand takes a seat on his chair and spreads his legs. Andy easily comes to him, curling up in a ball, and his arms wrap around her to reach his computer.

"Working on something?" Andy asks softly, fingers curling around his bicep.

Rhysand hums in response.

Andy leans further against his chest and mutters, "Where's Veronica's gift?"

"Sanford," her boyfriend says in warning.

"Just wondering."

A pause. Then, "We're not doing this."

"I was just curious!" Andy defends herself with a pout, clutching his shirt. She hides her face on his shoulder. "Fine. Um. I wanted to say thank you. For today."

It's quiet for a moment; just the sound of a few taps of the keyboard surround the room until Rhysand answers quietly, "You're welcome."

Andy traces his collarbone with the tip of her finger and hums contently.

"You really like romantic, sappy shit."

A laugh slips out of Andy's mouth. "And you really like me."

"Learning, are we?" he mutters, sliding one hand down to her waist. "What else do you like?"

"I thought you were working."

Rhysand scoffs and drops his hand. "Leave, then."

Andy laughs louder and hugs him tighter. "I'm kidding. Um, I want to watch my favorite rom-com movies with you without your complaints."

"I don't complain."

"You do," she argues, shaking her head. "Clueless, John Tucker Must Die, Ten Things I Hate About You—"

"How the fuck are those romantic?" Rhysand snaps, pulling back to look at her. "The titles are stupid."

"You'll see when you watch it!" Andy laughs again, kissing him on the cheek. "What about you? Is there anything you want to do?"

Rhysand pauses, like he's thinking about it. His eyebrows furrow, and his fingers draw closer to her skin when he says, "No. Just want you here."

Andy nods. "I'm here, baby."

He shakes his head, like that's not what he means, but doesn't offer anything more.

And somehow, even without words, Andy understands.

*

Andy's team wins their first water polo match.

No thanks to her, of course. Johann steps out of the shower room in slip-ons with a sports bag over his shoulder, drying his wet hair with a towel. He's still wearing that easy grin that's been on his face the whole morning. "You good?"

Andy just got out of the shower herself. She combs her hair with her fingers and nods, returning his contagious smile. "Yeah," she answers cheerily. "Thank you so much. You were awesome."

He scoffs. "Nah, it was a team effort."

Andy appreciates his sweetness, but..."Johann, I didn't do anything. You basically blocked every ball that was about to hit me."

Johann shrugs, his mouth still curled up. "Didn't want to hurt your pretty head. You ready to head home? I can give you a ride. It's not a fancy one, but, uh, still a ride."

Andy ignores his comment about her head and checks the time on her phone. It's still early, and Rhysand is still asleep. He stayed up late last night working on a song, and Andy really wants him to have his rest. His working habits aren't healthy at all, and it's worrying her.

So she nods eagerly. "That would be great. If I'm not out of your way, of course. I can walk."

Johann's smile grows wider. "You aren't. And it's too far of a walk. Come on."

The other team's captain, Bash, meets them on their way out of the pool. He's shirtless and seemingly on his way to the locker room. "Good game," he tells Johann with a tip of his chin. "Congrats."

"Thanks," the blonde says with a nod of his own. "We're heading out. See you next week."

Bash glances at Andy. The corner of his mouth turns upwards. Just a little bit. "Clumsy?"

Surprised he's talking to her, Andy blinks and stutters, "Uh, y-yeah. A bit. Sorry. Hello. I'm Andy."

"Bash," he says, amused. "See you next week, then."

Johann places a hand on Andy's back and leads her out of the pool area. His car is a little small, and there's a lot of wrappers and clothes all over the place. Andy wrinkles her nose when she gets in the passenger side.

Johann looks at her sheepishly. "Sorry. Wasn't expecting to give anyone a ride. I'll clean up after."

Andy smiles at him. "It's your car, Johann. Thanks for offering!"

They chat easily during the short drive, and again, when they arrive at her dorm building, Andy thanks him, and the blonde brushes it off and gives her a wave.

Sabina is sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone when Andy comes in. "Welcome home, bitch."

"Mean," Andy says, dropping her bags on the floor. She crawls on top of the older and wraps her arms around her waist, burying her head on Sabina's shoulder. "It's not like I'm out every day and night."

Her roommate scoffs and threads her fingers against Andy's hair. "Work, school, boyfriend. It's usually the boyfriend."

Andy giggles. "Jealous?"

"Disgusted," Sabina answers, and Andy knows she's rolling her eyes. "You're like a lovesick puppy. It's weird, but at the same time, I'm glad it's not that little bitch Luke anymore. Anyway, do you have shift today? We should go bowling or something. I'm cutting all my classes today."

The younger raises her head. "Where's MJ?"

Sabina scowls, and Andy knows she shouldn't have asked. "With that fucker that I bet has one ass cheek. Anthony or some shit, I don't care."

"You know it's Adrian. And Sab, I don't think he has one butt cheek. No one has one butt cheek."

"Whatever. Let's go bowling."

Andy scrambles off the bed with a grin. "Sure. I don't have work until later, but I do have homework."

"Fuck homework."

"We need education, Sab."

"Fine," the model grunts, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. "Let's head back then before your shift so you can do your homework. I really just want to go on a date with you today. Feel like you aren't around much anymore."

Andy squeals and jumps on Sabina's body again, causing the older to shriek in surprise and from the impact. "Aw, you're so cute, Sab! You missed me!"

"Get the fuck off me, you overgrown child."

"Admit it first."

Sabina groans loudly. "Fine, kid, yeah. Can we go now?"

Andy kisses her friend on the cheek. "Let me go change for a sec then we can go."

*

To no one's surprise, Sabina wins their bowling match.

It's more laughter than actual playing anyway. Andy drops the bowling ball a couple of times, and more often than not, it rolls over to the gutter. Andy doesn't know why that happens, but she blames it on the gutter. Sabina, on the other hand, who actually knows how to aim the pins, slips across the floor when she swings her arm out and back. Andy's pretty sure that even though it was only the two of them, they were the loudest in the bowling alley.

They opt to go for milk tea before heading home, and it's while they're waiting for their orders that Andy's phone rings with a call from Rhysand.

Andy looks at Sabina. The model just rolls her eyes. "Go ahead, kid."

Andy smiles at her and leaves the shop to take the call. "Hey, you."

"Sunshine. Are you still with Sabina?" Rhysand asks, voice raspy and low. He just woke up. Good. He had enough sleep.

"Yes," Andy answers, feeling her heart soar by just the sound of his voice. She misses him already. Which is ridiculous. They saw each other two days ago. "We're just getting drinks and then we're heading back. I have homework to do."

Rhysand grunts. "Sometimes I forget I'm dating a student."

"A sophomore now!" Andy cheers.

"Still a student," he mutters. "And after?"

"Shift at Baked!," she says, almost apologetically. "I'll come over when my shift is done, I promise."

Rhysand hums. "Okay."

Andy's cheeks hurt from smiling. "I miss you too."

"Text me," is Rhysand's simple response, but Andy can hear the small smile in his voice, too, and then he hangs up.

When Andy returns to her table, Sabina pushes her drink in her direction and grabs her purse. "Not that I'm willing to admit it, but your man scares me. Just a bit."

Andy's eyebrows raise. "The great Sabina Kyle is scared. Of Rhysand."

The junior links their arms together as they step out of the shop. "Tell him and I'll punch you in the face."

"I don't doubt that," Andy laughs. "But really, why?" Not that she doesn't agree; Rhysand really does come off as intimidating at first—he certainly did to Andy—and he is a bit scary when he's mad. Otherwise, he's just a big baby.

Sabina shrugs. "I just have a bad feeling. Dunno, maybe I'm just afraid that he's going to hurt you."

Andy pouts and takes a sip of her milk tea. "He won't."

"You don't know that," her roommate counters. "And I don't know, maybe it's his asshole attitude."

"He's not an a-hole—"

"You're being biased."

"I'm not!"

"Whatever. Come on, you're driving us home this time."

And as much as Andy wants to see Rhysand as soon as they get home, she knows she needs to finish her homework so she can stop feeling guilty about it and actually maintain her GPA, and she needs to go to work (Erika may be nice, but she's not that nice to let Andy off the hook if she skips her shift).

So it's about nearing ten in the evening when she hurries to the bus station—the bakeshop closed a little later than usual, and Andy's exhausted. She texted Rhysand a half-hour ago to ask for a ride, but her boyfriend hasn't responded, and she doesn't want to bother Jenner. In the bus, Andy plugs in her earphones and leans back against the window, sighing at the ache in her bones.

When she opens the door to the house, a yell of, "Andy! My girl!" comes from the living room. Andy smiles and takes off her shoes. "Hi, Jenner."

He's seated on the couch, feet plopped over the coffee table with his computer on his lap. When he turns his head to look at her, just as she enters the room, Andy can see how tired Jenner looks from work—just like she is. "Why so late? Why didn't Rhys pick you up?"

"Came from work," she answers, sitting on the edge of the sofa and dropping her bag on the floor. "And I texted him but he didn't reply. Is he working?"

"Probably," he says, scoffing. "Hey, since you're here, I was craving pancakes. Are you?"

Andy grins. "A little."

Jenner gives her his best smile. Gums and all. "If you're not too tired. Please?"

Andy shakes her head and ruffles his hair fondly. "Fine. And only because I know Rhys needs to eat, too."

"Way to make me feel special, Andy," Jenner yells as she makes her way to the kitchen. "I'm hurt!"

"You'll live!" she yells back, grinning, and leans up on her tiptoes to search the cupboards for the ingredients. "Is it okay if I have some music? Will it bother you?"

Jenner tells her it's fine, so Andy sets her phone down on the counter, and cranks up her dancing playlist. Then, in a large mixing bowl, she measures and adds flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt, and while swaying her hips, stirs the dry ingredients together.

Jenner enters the kitchen and heads to the refrigerator. "You're so cute, Andy."

"You're only saying that because I'm making—"

"Fuck!" he suddenly yells, scrambling to keep the carton of milk that almost fell into his hands upright. He twists around to look at Andy with a scowl on his face. "Fuck you and fuck your boyfriend."

Andy laughs loudly. "I didn't do anything!"

"Fuck Rhysand. And by extension, you."

"Is that any way to say thank you to the person making your pancakes? Plus, at least you didn't spill anything on your shirt this time."

"Not the fucking point, Andy," Jenner seethes, slamming the refrigerator door close and placing the milk on the counter. "He's lucky I'm nice."

Andy grins and blows him a kiss.

Jenner pretends to dodge it and leaves the kitchen.

With another loud laugh, Andy makes the rest of the batter with milk and an egg, and whisks the mixture together until it's smooth, thick, and creamy. She prepares the cooking surface while the batter rests for a good five minutes, and dances while waiting. Andy cooks the pancakes once the pan is hot enough, careful with flipping them over as they bubble, keeps swaying her hips and singing along with wrong lyrics.

She doesn't even hear Rhysand come down from the stairs until large hands come to rest at her hips, and Andy jumps from surprise. "You scared me!" she yelps, her fingers clutching the collar of her shirt.

Rhysand slides one hand around her waist, uses the other to swipe her hair away from her neck, and bends down to bury his head on the curve of her shoulder. "You should've called me," he rasps, and Andy shudders from the brush of his lips against her skin.

Andy leans into chest, heart racing not from the scare anymore, but from his touch and show of affection. "I didn't want to disturb you," Andy mumbles, swallowing the lump in her throat. Her cheeks are flaming.

Her boyfriend pinches the skin on her waist. Andy lets out a squeak at the sting. "Should've called me," he repeats, dropping a gentle kiss on her shoulder. "Was working and I didn't see your text, I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Andy murmurs.

"You were dancing and making pancakes in the kitchen at eleven in the evening?" Rhysand muses quietly, hugging her tighter.

"Jenner and I wanted pancakes."

"I like you dancing."

Andy flushes and pushes him away. Flips the pancake that's been sitting on the pan for too long. "You're making fun of me."

Rhysand's tone is carefully neutral when he says, "I'm not, baby." But Andy knows he's trying not to smile.

She twists around to shoot him a glare. Tries to ignore the jump in her heart at the sight of him—he's only in a red hoodie and gray sweatpants, hair messed up, but he's so handsome. "You are."

"I like it," Rhysand says, stretching his legs. "But Jenner should make his own fucking pancakes."

"Shut up, asshole, Andy wanted pancakes too," his roommate yells from the living room. "And stop forcing the damn milk into the fridge if it doesn't fit, dickhead, I am tired."

Rhysand snorts but doesn't say anything else. To Andy, he asks, "You need help, sunshine?"

"No, just don't stare at me."

Rhysand doesn't answer her, and Andy knows he's staring. "Rhys!"

"What?" he drawls, and Andy glances back to see him cross his arms over his chest. "Keep dancing."

Andy blushes and faces the stove again. "No," she mutters, while cooking the last of the pancakes—conscious of Rhysand's eyes on her. "It's embarrassing."

"You weren't embarrassed when I wasn't here."

"When you weren't here. Exactly. Have you forgotten about my big, fat crush on you?"

Rhysand barks out a laugh. "You're impossible."

"And yet you're dating me, so what does that say about you?" Andy says with a grin, putting down the spatula. "Okay, come on, children. Time to eat."

Jenner skips into the kitchen while Rhysand pulls out plates from the drawers and Andy grabs the syrup from the refrigerator. They all dig in.

When they're all full and happy, the boys wash the dishes, and it's a mess because Jenner sprays water on Rhysand for revenge on the milk, and Rhysand marks his friend's skin with dishwashing soap. Laughing, Andy leaves them to it and heads upstairs to Rhysand's bedroom to freshen up and change. Some of her clothes are in his closet from staying over a couple of nights already, but Andy prefers wearing one of Rhysand's shirts. They smell like him.

He comes to bed almost an hour later, while Andy's scrolling through her social media. Rhysand crawls over the covers and snatches her phone. Chucks it somewhere behind him. "I want to ask you something."

Andy bites her lip. "Yeah?"

Rhysand's eyes drop to her mouth. "Can you kiss me?"

Andy flips over and buries her head on the pillow. "Rhys," she whines.

Rhysand shifts his position and kneels up on the bed, taking Andy's arms away from her face. "Hey, I'm not trying to embarrass you."

"Really," Andy mutters.

"I just want you to be more comfortable with me," he says, successfully turning her body around, flat on her back again (with minimal effort. If Rhysand pushed her, she'd fly away, up against the wall). One of his hands capture both of her wrists to her chest. "You've never done it again since that time."

Andy's face is hot. "Let go of my hands, please."

Slowly, Rhysand does as she says, planting his palms on either side of her head.

Gathering her courage, Andy slips one hand on the nape of his neck and brings him down to her level. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," he murmurs, and Andy takes a stuttering breath, looks into his eyes, and kisses him.

It's gentle—the first touch of Andy's lips on his, and at this point, it's usually Rhysand taking the lead. But with his hands fisted on the covers, he stays still, and Andy, shy, embarrassed, heart stuttering in her throat, presses forward again, tries to kiss him the way he does to her, and Rhysand follows sweetly, tilting his head to the side. Andy feels it—feels him holding back, from doing the same thing he did when Andy first kissed him.

She pulls away and tangles her fingers in his hair, looking up at him dazedly. "Rhys."

He leans down to press one last kiss to her lips. "Let's go to bed."

Andy frowns. She wants to talk about his holding back, but she lets it go for now. Rhysand stands up to turn off the light, then they slip under the covers, legs entangling with each other's. The spooning comes easily now, more natural, but it still makes Andy's heart race.

"Night, sunshine," Rhysand says, breath fanning the nape of her neck.

Andy laces their fingers together on her stomach and snuggles back into his chest. "Night."