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My heart gives one ridiculously happy little flutter.

And despite my best efforts, a smile creeps across my face.

Slowly.

Helplessly.

Completely against my will.

I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the door.

“Too late.”

chat

Mrs. Han: How was your not-date?

Khaos: When did you learn how to text?

Mrs. Han: I’m a very tech-savvy, young man. Don’t change the subject.

Mrs. Han: Did she look like she wanted to die?

Khaos: Where are you going with this?

Mrs. Han: I’m proving a point.

Khaos: What point?

Mrs. Han: That you like her.

Khaos: It wasn’t a date.

Mrs. Han: Of course not.

Mrs. Han: I’m sure young people always have candlelit dinners, spend hours talking, and walk each other to their rooms strictly for business.

Khaos: You’re enjoying this far too much.

Mrs. Han: I’ve been waiting years to see you smile at someone, my boy.

Mrs. Han: Don’t scare the poor girl away.

Khaos: Poor? Have you met this woman?

Stephen: She’s the terrifying one.

Mrs. Han: Good.

Khaos: Good?

Mrs. Han: Someone finally has you nervous.

Mrs. Han: I was beginning to think you were hopeless.

Khaos: Goodnight.

Mrs. Han: Goodnight, my boy. Sleep well.