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A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Noah went to the door and got the pizza, giving the delivery guy a tip. He realized he was far too comfortable moving around her apartment. Like he belonged. Like it was normal.

“This is not becoming a thing,” Claire told him.

“What?”

“You coming over and fixing things.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I don’t believe you.”

She huffed.

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the floor in her living room eating pizza. Her table was cluttered, so they ended up sitting on the floor rather than risking pizza sauce on the new couch. The TV was on in the background.

Noah couldn’t help but realize Claire had let him stay. The pasta had been an excuse to take care of her. This felt different. He wasn’t handing her dinner and leaving. He was sitting on her floor, eating pizza, hearing her laugh, and existing inside her space.

That was bigger.

He didn’t get the impression she did that with many people.

“I only let you finish the bookshelf because arguing with you is exhausting,” she informed him.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.” Noah got up to throw away their paper plates. He didn’t stop to think about how or why he knew where her trash can was without asking.

Claire glanced around the apartment. Something in her expression changed, though Noah couldn’t quite name it.

They somehow ended up settled on the couch. Not too close, but close enough. The couch only had so much space. They were facing each other, and Claire had her legs curled up under her.

The TV was still on. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in watching it.

“So, have you always wanted to work in advertising?” Noah asked her.

“Since I was seventeen. I knew what I wanted. The apartment, the city, the career.”

Noah noticed she listed every part of the life she had wanted except someone to share it with. She really was convinced she could be on her own. He wondered why.

“Why advertising? And how old are you? I’m realizing I don’t know.”

“I like creating things, I just realized I’m better at making sure they come together. I’ve done both ends. I started from the bottom and worked hard for years to get up to where I am now. And I’m twenty-seven. You?”

“You like being in charge,” he observed, “and I’m twenty-nine.”

“I like things being done correctly.”

“So yes.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She laughed. “You know,” she started, reaching for a blanket, “I don’t actually know what you do.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“You’ve never told me.”