Jenner takes one look at Rhysand and says, "It went badly, didn't it?"

Rhysand runs a hand through his face. "I need a beer."

His roommate laughs loudly. He throws his head back and claps multiple times, howling. "Oh my God, what did you do?"

Rhysand grabs a bottle from the fridge and slams the door.

He's frustrated—and mad at himself, and pissed off.

How could Sanford not know he asked her out on a date? He picked her up, bought her food, paid for their dinner, brought her to the shelter because she liked it, and took her home afterwards. Christ, he put on some gel on his hair.

He never puts on gel.

And then there's the kiss. Rhysand thought—he assumed she'd be okay with it. He gave her time to pull away, but then again, he didn't ask. He should have asked.

"She's clueless," Rhysand mutters, leaning against the doorframe. Jenner's still wearing that shit-eating grin, and Rhysand kind of wants to leave and sulk alone, but he needs to talk about this—to understand. "I knew she was clueless about dating, but come on."

"Again, Rhys, Luke was an asshole."

"I know that," he growls, taking a swig of the drink. "She didn't know we were on a date."

Jenner, to his credit, lasts three seconds before he's doubling over in laughter.

Rhysand curls his free hand into a fist. "Alright, dickhead, stop that. Tell me what to do."

His roommate takes a few more moments to calm down before sitting upright, wiping a tear from his eye. "Okay. How exactly did you even ask her out?"

"I told her to make herself free today. And that I'd pick her up after work at her dorm."

Jenner raises his eyebrows. "Okay, and?"

Rhysand blinks at him. "And nothing. She said okay."

"Bro." Jenner sighs. "She probably thought you were going out to eat. Just to eat. Like the way you two have been since a couple of months ago."

Rhysand takes another swig of his beer. "I don't ask when we do that. And I certainly don't pick her up from her dorm."

"Andy's not the kind of girl who's going to think of it as a date when you put it like that—horribly, might I add," Jenner says patiently, placing his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. "She probably thought something came up with you—that's why you can't meet her after work. That's it. And, to be fair, you weren't clear about it. You didn't say 'date'."

"We had dinner, then we went to the shelter together because she likes animals," Rhys defends himself, the frustration clawing at his chest. "And she was happy."

Jenner tilts his head to the side and scratches his chin. "Okay, look at it this way. Maybe no one's ever asked her out before. Or took her out on a date."

Rhysand scoffs. "Impossible."

"How is that impossible?"

"She's nineteen, a freshman in college, and she's gorgeous. There's no way she's never been on a date before Luke."

Jenner grins. "Alright, so what happened after the shelter? That's a great idea, by the way. Why not just go to the movies?"

"I'd have to watch the movie if we did that."

"Okay, this might come off as a surprise to you, but—that's the point of going to the movies, Rhys. To watch it."

Rhysand rolls his eyes. "Smartass. I meant that in the movies, I can't look at her without being creepy about it. Or talk to her. And I wanted to do something that she liked."

"Sap," Jenner muses, crossing his legs. "Aquarium, then."

"No, they literally—no, they use and abuse animals for their shows and shit. Sanford hates it."

"You put a lot of thought into this. Okay, so what happened after the shelter?"

Swallowing hard, Rhysand drinks his beer again before answering, "I brought her home. Then I kissed her."

Jenner gapes at him. "No. No. No, you did not."

Rhysand shuts his eyes. Drinks his beer, and holds it against his mouth longer than he wanted. Feels the burn in his throat. "I fucked up."

"Yes, you did!" Jenner snaps, standing up and snatching the bottle from him. "You have to apologize."

"I was already planning to—give me that."

His roommate keeps the beer out of Rhysand's reach and shoots him a stern look. "Did you ask her first?"

Silence.

"Rhysand!"

"I know, Christ, I fucked up. You know how I felt when she ran away from me after that?"

Jenner's mouth twitches. The tiniest bit. "I mean, I would run away from you, too."

"Shut up," Rhysand mutters, grabbing the bottle again. Downs it in one go.

Jenner looks at him. "The Rhysand I knew would've given up by now. Wouldn't care."

"I like her too much to give up."

Jenner smiles proudly. "Then you better talk to her, my dude."

Rhysand was already planning on it.

*

Andy can't skip school, but she can skip work.

After a tiring day in university, of taking longer routes and avoiding parking lots, of keeping her head down low and her phone turned off—Andy decides to call it a day and just go home. Curl up in her blankets, watch a movie. Cry again.

Thankfully, her boss is the understanding type—as soon as she mentioned being sick, Erika gave her the day off. Besides, there's no way to avoid Rhy—him—if she was at Baked!. No matter the distraction of working.

Here, in her dorm room, she's perfectly safe and sound.

And still upset.

MJ and Sabina left it alone when it was clear she didn't want to talk. How can she tell them, her older and experienced roommates slash friends, that she didn't know she was on a date?

She's gullible enough as it is when it comes to dating and romance, and last night made it a hundred times worse. There's no way Rhysand will like her now (not that he liked her before)—after she completely humiliated herself.

He was her first kiss. And she froze—like an idiot.

Stupid, Andy tells herself as she strips off her clothes, puts on a comfortable sweater and boxers, and hides under her blankets. So stupid. And then you ran away. Reaching for the remote, she turns on the television and stares blankly at the screen.

Hiding isn't going to solve anything. She knows that. And yet, whenever she thinks about facing Rhysand...well, it'll be a blessing to have the ground swallow her up whole instead.

Biting her lip, Andy grabs her phone and turns it on.

There are three missed calls from Rhysand, and two text messages:

Let's talk after your shift.

I went to Baked and you weren't there. I'm on the way to your dorm, we need to talk.

The second of which was just sent twenty minutes ago.

Andy flips on her stomach and screams into her pillow. She stays like that until her phone buzzes again. I'm outside.

Carefully, she gets on all fours and crawls towards the window. Her fingers grip the ledge, and then she's raising her head, just a bit, to peek at the glass.

There, below, is the Jeep Wrangler, and leaning against it with a stick in his mouth is Rhysand.

Annoyance flares in Andy's chest, but panic overpowers it. She sits back down on the floor and covers her face with her hands, trying to calm her breathing.

She swallows hard and sends him a reply. What if I'm not ready to talk yet

It's instant—his response. Then I'll wait here until you are.

Andy's eyes widen. Surely Rhysand wouldn't—You're kidding, right?

And if you decide you don't want to see me today, then I'll leave and come back tomorrow.

Andy's heart pounds loudly against her ribcage. There's no way. He'd leave in half an hour. Forty minutes, tops.

*

Rhysand doesn't leave in forty minutes. In an hour, actually.

And in that hour, Andy tries to gather her wits and courage, and she stands in front of the mirror and rehearses what she's going to say, all the while having herself, panicked and wild, staring back at her.

She can't do this for the rest of the night. She'll pass out. She needs to get it over with.

Without bothering to fix her hair, or her face, or change her clothes (because Rhysand won't want anything to do with her after this, he's probably going to tell her she needs to piss off, to stop coming over at his and Jenner's place, to stop being annoying), she makes the trek downstairs and mutters a silent prayer to herself.

Rhysand doesn't look surprised when he sees her. He just looks up, blows the last of his smoke, and pushes himself off the vehicle. "Ready to talk, sunshine?"

Andy winces. She stops at a distance in front of him and doesn't meet his eyes. "How many cigarettes have you had?"

Rhysand doesn't answer her. "I think I didn't make it clear that last night was a date."

"I'm sorry I didn't know," Andy blurts out.

"No, let me talk first," Rhysand says. "That wasn't your fault."

"I didn't even put makeup on," Andy can't help but mutter.

Rhysand steps closer. "That doesn't matter to me."

"It does to me, Rhysand," Andy says, finally looking at him. "I thought we were only going out to eat. I mean, why would someone like you want to take someone like me out on a date? That's so—"

"What the hell does that even mean?" Rhysand snaps. "I asked you out because I like you. That's it, Sanford."

Andy inhales sharply. There's nothing but seriousness and sincerity and utter genuinity in Rhysand's eyes. "So you're not here to tell me to piss off?"

"What? No, what the fuck. I'm apologizing, for Christ's sake."

Andy's shoulders sag in relief. "The...date."

Rhysand stares at her.

"Was good," she mumbles, looking away. Her neck is flushed hot. "I liked it."

"Good."

"I just..." Andy swallows the lump in her throat. "The—um, k-ki—"

"Kiss?" Rhysand supplies for her, raising his eyebrows.

Andy wants to turn around and run, but she keeps her feet planted on the ground and curls her hands into fists. She looks at the Jeep's door behind Rhysand's head. "I wasn't—prepared. The last time."

He steps closer. Andy stiffens. "And?"

Andy shuts her eyes. "Oh, jeepers," she squeaks, turning away, "never mind—"

Before she can move another muscle, Rhysand has his hand on her waist, and he's pulling her to him with a tug.

She stumbles a bit and bumps straight into his chest. She raises her chin, looking up at him, and he's staring down at her, dark eyes shining. "Finish what you were going to say," he murmurs lowly, eyes dropping to her mouth.

Andy takes a deep breath. Holds his gaze. "And I-I'd really like it, um, you know, if y-you, um, you don't have to! But u-um, if you'd—you know, do it. A-again."

A hint of a smile passes through his features as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Andy tracks the movement. His grip tightens on her hip. "I'm sorry I didn't ask last night."

"It's okay," Andy whispers back. "That was my first."

Rhysand sighs, but he doesn't pull away. "I knew it. Shit. I'm sorry. You should've pushed me."

"That would've been mean."

"I don't care," he hisses, and he sounds genuinely upset. Andy thinks it's cute. "You should've slapped me."

Andy shakes her head, reaching up to touch his cheek. Rhysand leans into her palm. "I'm sorry I ran away. And avoided you. And hid in my room."

"You lasted longer than I thought you would. Than Jenner did."

Andy's jaw drops. "You bet on how long it would take me to talk to you?"

Rhysand dips his fingers into her skin—just the littlest touch above the waistband of her shorts. "I told him it would take you thirty. He said it would take you ten."

"Well, you were both wrong," she says, frowning. "I was panicking."

"I can tell."

Andy clutches his shirt. "Repeat. Now. Please."

Rhysand doesn't smile, but there's amusement in his eyes as he leans down. "Don't run away from me this time."

He cups her face gently, and then he kisses her.

It's light—just a feather-light of touches—and then he pulls back, brushes their mouths together, once, twice, that Andy's fisting her hands in his shirt, stomach fluttering, and then he presses more deeply, fits Andy's bottom lip between his own and tugs.

Andy doesn't quite know what to do—just follows her instincts. Chases his mouth when he pulls back, then Rhysand kisses her again. Longer, and sweeter.

Then she uses her hands to push his chest—not hard enough to make him budge, but there enough to make him pull away.

And it tingles—from her lips, to her heart, and all the way up to her toes that her knees buckle.

Rhysand doesn't laugh, but she knows he's trying not to when he steadies her and asks, "You good?"

Andy bumps her forehead against the curve of his shoulder, shutting her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Rhysand tucks her close and hums—a silent question.

"I don't—I don't know what to do."

"You did fine," Rhysand tells her, and it embarrasses her so much that she makes a sound. "About the fish. That was a joke. Obviously."

Andy, still embarrassed, straightens. "Okay," she whispers.

Rhysand releases her and steps back. "I have to work," he says. "I haven't been able to do anything since last night."

Andy winces. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." He tips his chin towards the entrance of the building, like he always does when he says, "Go back inside."

She gives him a wave. "I'll see you tomorrow. Or next time we see each other. Doesn't have to be tomorrow." She laughs nervously and turns away. "Bye!"

Rhysand watches her go.

In her room, when she faces the mirror, she groans out loud and slaps a hand to her forehead.

She forgot that she's in a sweater and boxers—and her hair is a complete mess. Her face is atrocious. Why didn't Rhysand say anything?

Still, Andy's heart is still beating wildly against her chest. He kissed her again.

She puts a finger to her lips and smiles.  

*

i know said updates will be twice a week, but i haven't been able to write bc of uni and i want to be consistent with what i give you guys! i'll try to upload again on tuesday if i get some writing done during the weekend :)

what did you guys think?