Contrary to what I’d expected, his house didn’t resemble a college fraternity’s. It was surprisingly cozy despite its vast layout, and the coastal decor was a refreshing mix of soft whites, moody blues, and dusty yellows. He either had an excellent eye, an excellent interior designer, or both.

“This is where I spend most of my time.” He gestured at the second-floor den, which was part TV room, part library, and part home arcade. “It’s the jack-of-all-trades in the house.”

“Is that a claw machine?” I walked closer to the metal container filled with stuffed toys. It occupied the far-right wall between a vintage pinball machine and a retro popcorn cart.

“Ah, yes.” Xavier rubbed the back of his neck, pink tinting his cheeks. “I hated those things when I was younger. I spent a fortune on them but never got the toy I wanted, so I installed this and rigged it so everyone who plays gets what they want.”

The boyish explanation was so unexpectedly charming that I didn’t bother hiding my smile.

“The scars from our childhood enemies run deep,” I said solemnly.

“Yes, they do.” Xavier fixed me with a grave stare. “Don’t get me started on Doris’s old cat. She almost killed me and Hershey in our sleep once.”

“Hershey?”

“Childhood pet. He was a brown Lab, hence…” “The name.”

“Bingo.”

A mental image of a young Xavier with his dog popped up, and my heart melted the teensiest bit.

Ugh. Our date hadn’t officially started, and I was already softening. What was wrong with me?

“Did you have any pets when you were younger?” Xavier’s hand brushed mine when we left the den. Electricity sizzled up my arm, and I instinctively jerked it away.

I smoothed a hand over my bun to hide the knee-jerk reaction, my heart pounding. I wasn’t sure if he’d noticed, but a tiny grin played at the corners of his mouth as he led me past the third-floor bedrooms and to the rooftop.

“No,” I said a tad belatedly. “My father doesn’t like any animals except horses.” I made a determined effort not to glance at any of the bedroom doors and picture what was behind them.

What did Xavier’s room look like? His childhood bedroom in Bogotá had been stripped and transformed into a generic guest suite. Did he display items from his travels? Artwork? Posters? If so, posters of what?

“But I have a temporary pet fish,” I said, determined not to dwell on such silly questions. “The person who rented my apartment before me left him behind.”

Xavier opened the door to the rooftop. “What’s his name?” “The Fish.”

He stopped and looked askance at me. “You named your pet fish…Fish?”

“The Fish,” I corrected. “Articles of grammar are important, and like I said, he’s a temporary pet. There’s no use giving him a real name.”

“Right. How long have you had this temporary pet?” “Five years.”

His laughter sent white puffs of breath into the chilly fall air. “I hate to break it to you, Luna, but once it passes the one-year mark, pet ownership is no longer considered temporary.”

I constructed a whole argument about how temporary didn’t have a defined time limit. Therefore, if I’d adopted The Fish with the intention of rehoming him one day, it was considered temporary regardless of how much time passed.

However, the words died on my tongue when I stepped fully onto the rooftop and saw what he’d planned for our first date.

Oh my God.

A giant standing TV screen dominated one side of the rooftop, kitty-corner to a table covered with every snack one could think of. There were white ceramic dishes filled with M&M’s, pretzels, gummy bears, and other candies I couldn’t identify at this distance; plates groaning with chips, cookies, and sundry snacks; massive bowls containing six different types of popcorn; and a full charcuterie board. A champagne bucket sat next to tea, coffee, and three bottles of wine (one red, one white, one rosé). Beneath the table, a glass-fronted minifridge boasted an assortment of water, juice, and soda.

Area rugs and potted plants scattered across the floor, lending the scene a cozy feel. Strategically placed candles and the canopy of lights overhead illuminated the rooftop in lieu of the setting sun while portable heat lamps warded off the cold.

However, the real star of the show was the giant mattress laid out in front of the screen. Piled high with pillows, cushions, and cashmere blankets, it looked so cozy I wanted to dive right into the middle and never get up.

The entire setup was so cheesy, it looked like something out of a rom-com.

And I loved it.

Emotion prickled my chest. When was the last time someone put this much thought into something for me?

My exes had taken me to expensive dinners and exclusive shows, which were nice, but they only cost money. Time and care required far more effort, and no one had ever deemed me worthy of those things.

“Since it’s Halloween, I figured we could do a double feature,” Xavier said. “One witchy rom-com and one Christmas rom-com that doesn’t release until the holidays. Friend of a friend is high up at the studio and pulled through for me.”

For once, I didn’t have a sarcastic reply.

“That…” I cleared my throat of its hoarseness. “That sounds nice.”

We filled our plates with food and settled on the mattress. He’d pushed it up against the low brick wall so we had back support, but a mountain of pillows softened the hard surface.

The opening credits rolled across the screen. I tried to focus on the lead actors’ names instead of Xavier’s presence.

We weren’t pressed against each other, but we were close enough that every time one of us moved, something grazed.

His arm against my shoulder. His leg against my knee.

His hand against my thigh.

Moments of contact so brief they barely counted as touches, but so potent they wreaked havoc on my body. My entire right side tingled from his proximity, and awareness pulsed to life in my veins.

We were on a New York rooftop in late October, and I was burning up. It wasn’t because of the heat lamps or the blankets; it was because of him.

“I’m surprised you scheduled this for Halloween.” I made conversation simply to divert attention away from the rapid patter of my heartbeat. Get a hold of yourself, for Christ’s sake. “There are dozens of parties tonight.”

“Those are boring. This isn’t.”

“You would rather watch a rom-com about a witch and a plumber falling in love than attend a costume party with celebrities?”

“One hundred percent. As long as I’m watching it with you.” His answer came out so casually, it took a second to register. Once it did, the patter morphed into a full-blown marching band, drums and all.

Damn him.

Tonight was supposed to be an obligatory date. I wasn’t supposed to like it this much.

You know you have to actually give him a chance, right?

Vivian’s gentle reminder from our happy hour yesterday floated through my mind. Don’t go through the motions waiting for the trial period to expire. It won’t be fair to either of you.