I see it through her eyes—dark wood, minimal furniture, everything functional. No decorations except the poker table my buddies insisted on.
"It's very... you," she says diplomatically.
"It's efficient."
She unpacks containers on my counter—roast chicken, vegetables, rolls, even a small chocolate cake. "When's the last time someone cooked for you? The guys and I take turns during poker nights."
"That's nice! When's your next one?”
“Tomorrow actually."
"Oh good, you have friends! I was worried you were all alone up here like a hermit."
I watch her bustle around my kitchen, making herself at home. She looks good here, all soft curves and pink energy brightening my dark space.
We eat at my kitchen table. She talks the entire time—about her shop, her regular customers, the kid who tried to pay for candy with a drawing of a dinosaur (she accepted it). I mostly listen, occasionally grunt responses. It's... nice?
"Okay!" She pulls out the questionnaire and a pink pen. "Question one: How did you meet? We've got that. Question two: What's your favorite thing about each other? Your complete inability to shut up."
She throws a roll at me. "Be serious!”
“I am. You fill silence. It's... not unpleasant."
She blinks. "That's sweet. For you. What's my favorite thing about you?"
I consider. "I make you feel safe."
Her breath catches. "Yeah. You do. Question three?"
She reads, turns red. "First kiss location and description. Make it up."
"Um... after our third date? You walked me home and kissed me at my door?”
“Boring. First date. You were nervous, rambling about candy making. I kissed you to shut you up."
She's scarlet now.
"Question four?"
"Pet names for each other." She grins. "I still think Bear is cute.”
“No."
"Fine. I call you John. You call me Little Bunny." She writes it down, cheeks pink. "Question five: How does your partner take their coffee?”
“You don't drink coffee. Hot chocolate with an obscene amount of whipped cream and those tiny marshmallows,” I reply.
She stares. "How do you know that? I've seen you at the coffee shop."
"You've been watching me?”
“I notice patterns. Tactical awareness."
"Right. Tactical." She's smiling. "You take your coffee black, no sugar, no joy.”
“Coffee doesn't need joy."
"Everything needs joy, John."
