this one's a bit long, i hope you enjoy! leave your comments, please! next update will be on tuesday! :)

*

Rhysand is pissed off.

His project is pissing him off. There's something missing with the track—he doesn't know if it's the lame lyrics, or the bridge, or if it's a beat that sounds off—either way, it's fucking with his head, and has done nothing to lighten his mood.

After two useless hours in his studio, Rhysand stands up, grunts in annoyance, and trudges down the stairs. His roommate is seated on the couch, laptop on his lap. He turns his head and grins when he sees Rhysand. "How's it—"

"Don't ask," he snaps moodily, heading to the refrigerator.

Jenner whistles. "This separation anxiety from Andy is worse than I thought."

Rhysand takes out a can of soda. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's midterm season. Andy hasn't been over in a week, you two haven't been going to dinner. You're annoyed."

Rhysand clenches his jaw and sits on the couch. "She's not why I'm annoyed. This stupid song. I can't think."

"What are you going to do about your crush?"

"Crush? There's no crushing going on. The only crushing I'm doing is crushing her hopes and dreams—"

Jenner hits him with a pillow, cackling. "Shut up, you're so lame. Just tell her to come over for food."

"No," Rhysand says, taking a sip of his drink. "She's busy."

"And why would that stop you?"

"Aren't you working?" he mutters, smacking his roommate's laptop for good measure. "Get back to work."

"You get back to work," Jenner answers childishly, moving away from him. "You know what, just ask her out."

"No," is Rhysand's immediate response.

Jenner raises his eyebrow. "And why not?"

"She's not like that."

"Not like what?"

"She doesn't even know that she and Luke weren't dating."

Jenner sucks in a deep breath. "She's never had someone to show her what dating really is, I think. Movies and books, maybe, but come on, cut her some slack, she really liked the asshole."

Rhysand rolls his eyes, curling his free hand into a fist, and then stretching the fingers again. "Don't remind me."

"I still don't know how you managed to live with him for months."

"And I still fucking hate you for making me live with him."

His roommate raises his hands in defense. "There was no other choice. Plus, you should be thankful. If it weren't for Luke, you wouldn't have met Andy."

"I don't care," Rhysand lies through his teeth. "Whatever. I'm cooking tonight."

"Ask her out and put me out of your misery," Jenner says, grinning, and turning back to his laptop.

Rhysand doesn't. He doesn't text her, doesn't visit her at work, doesn't do anything.

Sanford does the same, and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, it's pissing him off. Is she really busy? Or just ignoring him after the stunt he pulled on her last week?

Two days later, as he's driving to Baked! to find out, the memory of her face, flustered and shocked and embarrassed all at once, blue eyes widening as she hovered above him on his lap, resurfaces. A snicker escapes his mouth—but then he also remembers how fast his own heart was beating then.

Rhysand shakes his head and clears his throat. He makes it to the bakeshop in less than twenty minutes.

A quick look at his watch tells him she's almost done with her shift. And then she'll be rushing out to head home, because it's midterm season, and she's got a lot of exams to study for.

Still, Rhysand can't help himself. He leans against his Jeep, lights a cigarette, and waits.

He's had a lot of practice schooling his expression over the years. And so, when Sanford comes out, the wavy curls of her hair tied back in a ponytail, in a loose sweater tucked in a black skirt, carrying her bag and books over her arm, Rhysand's face doesn't change.

But his heartbeat does. Just a little.

Sanford closes the door and looks up, spotting him immediately.

Her whole face brightens. Even the exhaustion in her eyes dim a bit.

But a bad feeling creeps up on Rhysand's skin. She's tired. He doesn't know when she last ate.

"Hi!" Sanford greets cheerfully, after running over to him with her lips spread into the widest smile he's ever seen. "I didn't know you were coming! What are you doing here? Also." Her expression changes; eyebrows drawing together in a frown as she reaches inside her bag. "Smoking. Again."

Rhysand doesn't apologize for his vice, but a 'sorry' almost slips out of his mouth. He bites his tongue. "Stocked up on more lollipops?" he asks, inhaling the last of his smoke.

Sanford gives him the candy. "Yes! I have to if you're going to keep at it."

He turns his head away, blows out the smoke, and takes out the cigarette. Then, he opens his mouth.

Sanford blinks at him.

"Put it in," Rhysand says, leaning down until his head is level with hers. She's small compared to him.

"O-oh," Sanford mutters, then she quickly unwraps the lollipop.

Her eyes avoid looking at his as she steps forward, but Rhysand doesn't tear his stare away when she comes close. Her cheeks are red as she pushes the candy gently in between his lips. "Try to quit, please?" she asks, stepping back.

Rhysand pushes the lollipop against his cheek. "What time did you last eat?"

"This morning," she answers, a smile again on her face. "Are you treating me?"

He ignores the way her response makes him feel—angry, worried, concerned. He opens the passenger door instead. "Get in."

Sanford doesn't hesitate as she grips the door's handle.

Knowing it makes her uncomfortable, Rhysand doesn't wait for her to settle into her seat and close the door for her. He rounds the car and gets in the driver's.

The first time, she accidentally flashed him. He quickly turned away when that happened, aware that it wasn't her fault—the Jeep is higher above the ground than most vehicles—and didn't do it again. Especially when she asked.

"Where are we going?" Sanford asks excitedly, buckling up. "I'm starving."

Rhysand pulls out of his parking spot. "You choose."

Sanford chooses fast food.

They walk towards a plastic table near the window, trays in hand. As soon as they sit down, Sanford takes a whole nugget into her mouth.

And makes a sound out of contentment, then takes a long sip of her soda.

Rhysand stares at her, amused. "Food's not going anywhere."

"This is so good," she tells him, eyes wide as she holds another nugget. In her other hand, a french fry is in between her fingers. "Ah, thank you so much."

He doesn't want to ask, but he needs to know. So he grits his teeth, looks away, and mumbles, "When do your midterms end?"

Sanford thinks nothing of it and answers in between bites, "On Monday. I honestly can't wait. Exams are killing me."

Monday. That's four days away.

"So you're busy studying until then?"

Sanford shrugs. Chews her food. "Basically. Why?"

Rhysand doesn't know why he's doing this. He demands, "Tuesday. Make yourself free."

She blinks. "After work?"

"I'm picking you up at your dorm."

She takes another long sip of her soda as she nods. "Okay!"

Then she says something about her exam earlier that day, and a rude customer she dealt with, and Rhysand listens.

Even as he can hear his own pulse hammering wildly against his chest.

When he drops her off, she faces him. "Thank you for dinner! And the ride! Next time, let me know when you're coming so I can grab a cheese tart for you."

Warm. Always so warm. Rhysand tips his chin towards the doorway and drawls, "Go inside."

Sanford flashes him another bright grin. "Goodnight!"

As always, he waits for her to ride up the elevator before leaving.

When he comes home, Jenner is lying face down on the couch. "Where have you been?"

"I have a date," he says, and that's enough for Jenner to fall to the ground.

*

Andy doesn't know why she feels nervous.

It's just dinner with Rhysand. The same thing they've been doing over the past two months. The only difference is that he's picking her up at her dorm (for whatever reason, she didn't know), and that she's acknowledged her big, fat crush on him. And that—the time window after work and before the dinner—gives her room to be nervous.

She gives herself another look in the mirror. After showering and spending nearly half an hour scanning her closet for outfit choices, Sabina had enough (MJ was out) and pulled out a green off-shoulder dress that ended mid-thigh, embroidered with pretty flowers. "Wear that," the elder said, then went back to her desk. "Call me if you need anything and enjoy, okay?"

She smooths her hands down the dress. Around her neck is an elegant, gold-chained necklace with a little pearl resting just below her throat. Her curly hair is down; the hazel-shaded strands falling down her bare shoulders and back in waves. Her face is—it's plain, as it usually is, and her eyes are always too big, but there's nothing she can do about those. There's color in her cheeks and lips, at least, as she retouched her light makeup after showering once she got off work.

Andy just wants to look nice for him. It's usual, nothing different nor special—the way she's dressed, and the way she looks, but she feels good. Pretty enough.

When Rhysand texts her to let her know he's downstairs, Andy takes a deep breath and shoulders her bag. "Bye, Sab!"

"Have fun!" the junior calls out in reply.

Andy does more breathing exercises in the elevator as she shakes her hands. "Calm down. Calm down. It's just dinner. Chill out."

When she sees him, Andy tries her best to keep her steps steady. He's in ripped jeans and a black jacket thrown over a plain, dark shirt, and his eyes are dark and soulful. There's something different with his hair—less messy, somehow, and it's pushed back to show his forehead. And he's beautiful. Always is.

He glances at her once—from head to toe, and then his gaze is back on her eyes. "Ready to go?"

Andy swallows. "You're not smoking."

He opens the passenger door. "Do you want me to?"

"No," she whispers, climbing in and closing the door after her.

A moment later, Rhysand is seated at the driver's, and he's on the road.

"Where are we eating?" she asks, trying for a smile. Her hands shake as she puts on her seatbelt.

Get a grip, she tells herself.

Rhysand's hand stills on the wheel. "You're hungry?"

Andy puts a palm on her stomach. "A bit, yeah. Are you choosing today?"

Rhysand pauses. Doesn't give her a glance when he says, "Yeah. Okay. Let's eat."

She's delighted to know that Rhysand wants to eat Japanese, but she's confused—they leave the outskirts of the border near campus and Baked!, and even his and Jenner's home.

It takes her a few minutes looking out the window to realize that they're driving to the busiest place in the city, where the malls and the cinemas and the parks and the clubs are—the area where the life is loud in South Bend.

Rhysand parks the car, and together, they enter a restaurant that Andy knows will leave her wallet empty for the next few days.

It's...well, it's not fancy, but it's not casual either. It feels more...sophisticated. Formal. She worries that she's a little bit underdressed, but her shoulders sag in relief when she notices other customers are in jeans, shorts, and even dresses like her, too.

Rhysand sits across from her and picks up a menu.

Andy does the same, swallowing hard at the prices. It's not going to leave her broke, but...it's more than what she's used to.

When the waiter takes their orders, Andy's careful to choose a meal that isn't too expensive.

Rhysand's eyes narrow. He gives the waiter his order. One plate too many.

"This is nice," Andy says.

Rhysand studies her. "We can leave if you want."

"No!" she squeaks, raising her palms in the air as she violently shakes her head. "No, it's fine. This is really nice. I mean it."

Rhysand purses his lips and looks away, leaning back against his chair. "Where are you from?"

The question takes her aback. Rhysand doesn't...ask the questions.

Andy blinks and stutters, "Uh, Parkway. Just two cities away."

He meets her eyes again. "And your family?"

She furrows her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

Rhysand clears his throat. Andy doesn't know if it's a trick of the light, but the tips of his ears are...slightly pink. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean." Andy plays with her fingers on her lap. "You don't usually ask me stuff. I'm the one talking your ear off."

"You don't talk my ear off."

"I do."

Rhysand gives her a pointed look. "I...want to know. More. About you."

Andy chokes out a laugh. "You sound like you're being forced to say it."

Rhysand's ears are definitely red. "Shut up. Just answer my question."

"Well," Andy starts, wanting to put him out of his obvious embarrassment, "my dad is a cop. My mom is...well, she's gone. I don't really remember her. I don't have any siblings, which sucks, because I would totally love a younger sister. Or a brother."

Rhysand nods slowly. "And you're...close? With your dad?"

"Yeah. I visit and call him as often as I can. He's great." Andy takes a deep breath and grins. "You told me one time that you didn't have much creative freedom when you make your music. What do you want to write about, then? If you did have your freedom?"

He raises an eyebrow. "This isn't about me."

"I'm making it about you. I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because I don't doubt that your music's going to be great. Whatever it's about. Even if you hating romantic songs offends me."

There's a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I apologize for offending you, then."

"Apology accepted. So?"

"This is going to sound corny as shit."

Andy's smile widens as she shrugs. "Good. I'm all about being corny."

Rhysand scoffs. "I don't know. Anything that sends out a message. Society's standards. Expectations. Shit like that. Some politically-driven. Women empowerment. Standing up for yourself. I don't know, something that contributes to the world."

An embarrassing thought crosses Andy's mind. I am going to marry this guy.

Her cheeks heat as she looks away and gulps down a glass of water.

"You good?" Rhysand asks her.

"Fine," Andy mutters, placing her hands on her cheeks. God, it's hot. "Sorry. Um. Those sound great. I hope you get to write and produce what you want to produce, Rhysand. And I hope to hear them, too."

Rhysand stares at her. "Thanks."

Conversation comes easy again, and when their food comes, Rhysand pushes the extra plate, piled with a mountain of delicious food, towards her. "That's for you."

Andy's eyes widen as she points at her own plate. The serving is smaller, but it'll do. "No, thank you, I'm okay—"

"That's for you," Rhysand only repeats, lower this time, eyes gluing her to the spot.

Andy sighs. "You won't care even if I argue, right?"

"No."

Andy bites her lip. "Thank you," she mumbles, lowering her head. She's grateful, and a little ashamed. "I'm really okay, though—"

He gives her a glare.

Andy shuts her mouth. "Okay, thank you."

She finishes both plates. Rhysand looks satisfied.

When the bill comes, Andy reaches for her wallet. "Hold on—"

"I got it," Rhysand says gruffly, not even giving her a chance to peek at the bill before he's paying for it (with a couple of bills, and Andy knows it wasn't cheap), and then he's giving it back to the waiter, who scurries away.

Andy's jaw drops. "What did you just do?"

"Paid for our dinner," he answers, drinking the last of his water before standing up. He shoves his hands into his pocket. "Come on, I think they're still open."

Andy blinks. "Open—"

She barely gets another word out before she's following Rhysand to the door. She's so confused, she doesn't know what's happening.

And somehow, she finds herself at an animal shelter.

And the rest of the next few hours is a blur. She feeds the animals, plays with the kittens and the puppies, lends a hand into helping the caretakers. Her cheekbones hurt from smiling, and her heart feels full and happy, even when Rhysand pointed at the...least appealing-looking fish in an aquarium earlier and said, "That one is you."

Rhysand. Why did he bring her here?

She only notices him again when he comes close to hand her a drink and a pack of gummy bears. "Here."

Andy's mouth opens in quiet surprise. "You left?"

"For a while," he says softly.

"Sweets." Andy smiles as she takes a gummy bear into her hand. "Thank you."

He didn't buy anything for himself, but he looks content enough. "We have about twenty minutes left before they close."

"No," Andy whines, dragging the word out. She takes a sip of the drink—strawberry-flavored, her favorite—before turning back to the puppies wanting her attention. She puts a hand on her chest, and she feels wetness around her eyes as she pets and plays with them again.

When it's time to leave, it's not a surprise that Andy's crying. "Can't I adopt all of them?"

"That's impossible, ma'am," the lady at the counter, Lily, says with a gentle smile.

Andy swallows thickly. "If I had my own apartment, I'd adopt one."

Rhysand lays his palm flat on the surface of the counter and says behind her, "We'll be donating."

And Andy may be crying, may be emotional and confused, but she's sane enough to push him back gently and pull out her own wallet. "Ignore him. I'll be donating for the both of us."

There's a rumble of warning from Rhysand's chest. His body is pressed up against hers. "Don't."

"No," Andy says stubbornly, twisting around to look at him. "You paid for our food. And my sweets. And the gas on the way here isn't cheap."

"It's fine, I don't care," Rhysand bites back, gritting his teeth. "Just—let me."

"No," Andy tells him, and pulls out her money. "I want to do this. You can also donate more if you want to, but I want to do this."

Visits don't have rates, but donations are highly needed and appreciated, and Andy's happy to give all of her money on hand to the shelter.

Rhysand still pitches in a donation for the shelter. Lily gives Andy a hug before they leave, and Andy's heart hurts.

But at the same time, she's happy. And fulfilled. And warm all over.

In the car, they're quiet, save for the munching sounds Andy makes as she devours her pack of gummy bears. She's tired, but she's happy. It was a good day.

Rhysand kills the engine when they arrive at her dorm building. As always, he walks her to the door, and then she turns to him. "Thank you for today, I had a great time."

His mouth tilts upwards—the smallest curve. "Done crying?"

"Don't tease me," she mumbles, kicking an invisible stone on the ground. "Why...did you bring me there?"

"Because you love animals," is his answer. It's honest and straightforward, but Andy still can't understand why.

"Yes, I do," she says quietly, and looks up at him again. "Thank you again. Goodnight."

When she makes a move to leave, Rhysand doesn't let her.

There's a firm grip on her wrist before she can turn around, and his other hand slips around her waist, and slowly, giving her a few seconds to pull away if she wanted to, his lips cover hers in a silent, searing kiss.

It shocks her—it shocks her so much that she can't move. She stops breathing.

Soft, she thinks, just when her mind goes blank. His lips are soft.

Her hands are raised mid-air, not quite touching him, but not pushing him away either.

Rhysand pulls back, features drawn together.

There's a tingle against her mouth—a tickle of sensation. Just a bit. She's staring at the wall beside Rhysand's head when she whispers, "What did you just do?"

Rhysand's expression is carefully blank. "I kissed you."

"Yes."

"It's what people do after dates. Most of the time."

And that—that word sends another shock through her system. "We were—we were o-on a date?" she stammers, finally meeting his eyes.

Rhysand's dark irises are swirling with something she can't place. She can't think right now. "I picked you up," he says slowly, licking his lips, and Andy's gaze drops to his mouth again. The tickle is still there. "We had dinner. We went to the shelter together."

"You said the least attractive fish was me."

"I bought you food. Drove you home. Kissed you before I walk you to your door. That was a fucking date."

Andy only blinks at him. "I didn't know it was a date."

Rhysand stares at her and says, "Now you do."

And because it's the only thing she can think of that will save her further embarrassment and humiliation, Andy runs inside the building and runs up the stairs—doesn't even wait for the elevator.

And she cries into her pillow.