We ate the best damn burritos on the planet before actually going back up the stairs and working. I’d heard Ford typing plenty during the days we’d spent in my dorm room, but he seemed faster now that we were back at his place. When I glanced over at him, he looked a lot more comfortable than he ever had writing on the floor next to me, on Teagan’s old desk, or my bed.

I felt a little bad for making him stay with me for so long, but then again, he felt a little bad for turning me into a ...