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Tonight? Give me the drugs.

I gladly take one of the cold pills he brought while Mitchell pours me a glass of water like this is the most important task he's performed all day.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

I swallow the pill and drink half the glass. He's been different since he walked into my apartment.

Careful.

Not awkward exactly. I don't think Mitchell Knight knows how to be awkward.

But restrained.

Like every instinct he has is screaming at him to take over and he's forcing himself not to.

He heated the soup because I asked. Got me water. Cleaned up the bowls.

Didn't comment on the size of my apartment. Didn't try to fix anything. Didn't ask me if I've forgiven him.

He hasn't even tried to touch me. And somehow that last part is the one I notice most.

When he comes back from putting our bowls in the sink, he glances toward the door.

“I should let you sleep.”

My heart sinks. Which is stupid.

I'm the one who asked for space. I'm the one who wouldn't answer his calls. I'm the one who told him I didn't know what was real anymore. And now I'm disappointed because he's respecting exactly what I asked for.

Apparently heartbreak makes a woman fucking irrational.

“You could stay.”

He stops.

“For a movie,” I add quickly.

Something flickers across his face.

Hope.

God.

That hurts.

“Sure.”

“Don't look so excited. I'm sick. This isn't a date.”

“Understood.”

“And I pick.”

“Obviously.”

“And if you complain, you leave.”