Jason: yeah just got in
Sarah: coming over
Jason: okay
He set his phone down on the counter. Only then did he really look around the apartment.
Not the absent glance he’d been giving it for days, but the way someone seeing it for the first time might. The way Sarah would.
She’d never actually been here when it looked like this.
The first night she’d come over, the kitchen had been a mess she’d personally taken over. The morning after had been all rushing around—breakfast, stolen pancakes, and barely a thought spared for the apartment itself.
Tonight was different. He’d had notice. Time.
And somewhere along the way, he’d decided he wanted her to walk into a place that looked like its owner actually had his life together.
He started with the living room. The throw pillows had drifted out of place, so he straightened them. The blanket was slumped against the arm of the couch in its usual untidy heap. He folded it neatly instead.
His hands paused for a moment. That blanket had held her shape the first night she’d stayed over.
He shook the thought away before it lingered.
The kitchen came next. The counters were already clean, but he wiped them down anyway, more out of habit than necessity. The stack of mail beside the fridge became a neat pile instead of scattered clutter.
His eyes drifted to the sink.
Empty. Spotless.
He could still remember the first time she’d stood there insisting he scrub it properly.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Funny how much had changed because of one sink.
He dried his hands and headed for the bedroom.
The sheets were straightened. The pillows fluffed. Anything lying around that didn’t need to be seen quietly disappeared into drawers and shelves.
His gaze settled on the notebook resting on the desk. The cover still faced away from the door, exactly the way he always left it.
He looked at it for a second then left it exactly where it was.
The bathroom was last. Jason made sure a fresh towel hung where it should, then caught his reflection as he turned to leave.
He paused just long enough to run a hand through his hair.
Good enough.
He stepped back into the living room and stopped. His eyes swept across the apartment one final time.
The couch was tidy. The kitchen looked lived in without looking messy. The bedroom was in order. Nothing felt out of place anymore.
It actually looked... nice.
A small sense of satisfaction settled over him. Not the reluctant kind from two nights ago, when Sarah had practically bullied him into cleaning. This had been different. Nobody had asked him to do it.
He’d wanted to. He wanted her to walk in and see a place that reflected well on him.
A few minutes passed.
Then came three familiar knocks. Jason was already moving before they finished. He crossed the apartment, reached the door, and pulled it open without wondering who it could be.
Sarah stood on the other side.
A small metal flask rested loosely in one hand. Her hair was still slightly damp, like she’d showered not long ago, and she wore the same relaxed, comfortable expression she’d left with that morning.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey. What’s in the flask."
"Hot chocolate. I made too much and figured you’d want some before I drink it all myself." She held it up slightly, stepping past him into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, the same casual ownership she’d claimed of the space from the very first night.
"You could’ve just said hi first."
"I did say hi. The flask is a bonus greeting." She glanced around the living room, taking in the straightened pillows, the neatly folded blanket, and something in her expression shifted, amused and slightly touched. "Did you actually clean for me?"
"I didn’t clean. I organized. Different word."
"Uh huh." She grinned, setting the flask down on the counter. "That’s very cute, by the way. You didn’t have to do that."
"I wanted to." He echoed the same line he’d given her that morning without fully meaning to, and she caught it too, her grin widening slightly at the repetition.
"Fair enough." She crossed to the couch and dropped onto it, patting the cushion beside her the same way she had that first night, and Jason joined her without hesitation this time, no six inches of careful distance left to negotiate.
She poured the hot chocolate into the flask’s cap, taking a sip first before passing it to him. "Careful, it’s still warm."
He took a sip, and it was good, better than anything he would’ve bothered making for himself. "This is actually really good."
"I know. I’m full of hidden talents." She took the cap back, taking another sip, and settled further into the couch, her shoulder finding his the same way it had every time since that second morning, an established habit now rather than a decision either of them made consciously.
"So," she said, "how was your day."
"Long. Class ran late, then I ended up in a study group for a while."
"You? A study group?" She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Since when do you do the responsible student thing."
"Since I found out I’m apparently failing this midterm."
"That tracks." She laughed, taking the flask back for another sip. "Was it useful, at least?"
"Actually yeah. Way more than I expected." He took the flask back for a sip of his own. "Trap questions. Everyone writes evil exam questions and we answer each other’s cold. Helped a lot more than flashcards would have."
"That sounds brutal."
"It was a little brutal."
She laughed.
Before he’d even finished, she reached over and stole the flask back from his hand.
Jason watched her take a drink without bothering to stop her.
The same casual theft she’d pulled with his pancakes two mornings ago.
It should have felt familiar already.
Instead, it felt older than that. Like the kind of habit people picked up after months together instead of days.
She set the flask down on the coffee table.
"Hey," she said. "Truth or dare. Quick round. I’m bored."
"We’re not twelve."
"Doesn’t matter."
She pointed at him.
"Truth or dare."
Jason sighed.
"Fine. Truth."
"Coward."
"You said truth or dare. You didn’t say only dare counts as brave."
Sarah’s lips twitched.
"Fine." She tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "Best thing about me. Go."
"That’s not really a question."
"It is."
"No. That’s fishing for a compliment."
"It’s still my question."
Jason looked at her for a second before answering.
"You don’t perform."
She blinked.
"Everything you do," he continued, "you actually mean. Even the annoying stuff."
Something shifted in her expression.
The teasing didn’t disappear, but it softened around the edges.
"That was a good answer."
"I have my moments."
"My turn," she said.
She leaned a little closer.
"Dare."
"You didn’t ask me for one."
"I’m giving myself one."
She was close enough now that he caught her eyes dropping briefly to his mouth before meeting his gaze again.
"I dare myself to kiss you."
Jason let out a quiet breath.
"That’s not how the game works."
"I make the rules tonight."
She closed the remaining distance before he could argue any further.
He stopped trying.
One hand came up to rest Jason: yeah just got in
Sarah: coming over
Jason: okay
He set his phone down on the counter.
Then he actually looked at the apartment.
Not the way he’d been looking at it for the past week, which was the way you looked at furniture — present, registered, ignored. This was different. This was the way someone else might see it. The way Sarah would see it when she walked through the door in however long it took her to get here.
She had never been here when it looked like this.
The first night she’d come over, the kitchen had been a disaster she’d personally taken ownership of without asking. The morning after that had been rushed — breakfast, her stealing half his pancakes, neither of them paying attention to anything except each other. The apartment had been background noise both times.
Tonight he had notice. He had time.
He wasn’t sure exactly when the decision had formed, but somewhere between reading her text and setting his phone down, it had already been made. He wanted her to walk into a place that looked like its owner had things reasonably together. Not performance. Not impression management. Just the baseline fact of not wanting her to walk into a mess.
He started with the living room.
The throw pillows had migrated to positions that made no architectural sense. He straightened them. The blanket was piled against the arm of the couch in its usual state of total structural collapse. He folded it instead, laid it flat, got it right on the second attempt.
His hands slowed for a moment on the fabric.
That blanket had held her shape the first night she’d stayed. He remembered noticing it in the morning and not moving it for longer than he needed to.
He shook the thought loose before it settled into something and moved to the kitchen.
[A/N: Next Chapter Is An Upload Mistake. NovelPhoenix Messed Up My Drafts and Uploaded It Randomly]
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