I swallowed and broke the stare first, heat curling under my ribs like it had nowhere else to go.
“I’m not used to people respecting my boundaries,” I said.
His brows drew together. “I hate that.”
“Yeah, so do I.”
Markie muttered something profane and approving.
I leaned back against the couch, my heart doing something inconvenient and loud. This was still a bad idea, but I didn’t want him to leave.
The knock came sooner than expected. Three sharp taps. Liam stood immediately. He glanced at the door, then at me, checking without asking.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
I gave him a tired smile. “I know.”
He moved toward the door with his usual careful awareness, checking the lock before opening it, then opening the door just enough to see who was there.
Bags changed hands quickly. One. Two. Three. Four. Liam stepped back inside, arms full, then went back for more.
Liam stepped inside and set them down on the coffee table. Then went back out for more.
When he returned again, his arms were full enough that he had to shoulder the door shut.
He stood there for a second, looking at the coffee table.
“Are you expecting someone else?” he asked.
“No.”
He looked at the bags again. “Did you click the wrong thing?”
“I clicked very intentionally.”
His mouth flattened into a thin line, then he nodded once and accepted it. He unpacked the bags without saying a word, stacking the containers, ignoring the plastic forks as he set the chopsticks in a neat row. Steam rose when he cracked the first lid, and the smell filled the room.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “This is more food than two people need.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” I said.
He smiled, small and restrained, and opened the rest of the containers. Lo mein. Fried rice. Dumplings. Chicken swimming in sauce, aggressively crispy shrimp.
“Ten,” he said, counting under his breath. “You ordered ten dishes.”
“I need variety,” I said. “Also, I panicked.”
“That explains a lot,” he said as he headed to the kitchen to get plates.
“No plates.”
He froze as he took some out of a box. “No?”
“We are not pretending this is a dinner party,” I said. “We are eating out of the containers.”
He looked at the stack of plates in his hands, then at the containers. Then at me. “That’s… efficient.”
“It’s the best way to eat Chinese food,” I said. “And it respects my limited tolerance for cleanup.”
