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“Oh, did you,” I answer dryly.

“Definitely.” He nods down at the stove before peeking at me again with a smirk. “Especially with all the snoring you did.”

“I donotsnore,” I scoff.

“Oh, you snore, Dani. Like a hibernating bear.” Another smile for my trouble. “But a very cute bear.”

“I hate you,” I grumble.

He blows me a kiss. “Gonna be a tougher sell on that after last night.”

“Whatever.”

“How many pancakes?”

“Just one.” He shoots me a look, and I roll my eyes. “Fine,fine. Two.”

He slides two pancakes onto a plate, adding eggs and bacon to the side before pushing it in front of me and dropping the bottle of syrup just beside a glass of orange juice. I slather on a lot more syrup than necessary; my usual breakfast consists of protein bars or egg-white omelets whenever I have the time, and I have to admit, after all the…activity last night, the more indulgent breakfast is exactly what I didn’t know I needed. I pop a bite of pancake into my mouth, chewing for a moment before a satisfied moan slips out.

“Oh my God.”

Ezra looks smug as he takes the seat beside me at the island. “Wow, I don’t think you made noises like that last night.”

“Maybe you need to up your game,” I tell him through a mouthful of pancake.

He drapes his hand over the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing there and leaving goose bumps in its wake. “I think we both know my game was just fine.”

“I refuse to feed your ego,” I mutter after far too many seconds recovering from his touch.

“Of course not,” he chuckles before digging into his own food.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, each one making me feel increasingly more nervous about this whole thing. It hadn’t hit me yet what last night really means, and now I’m sitting here wondering what in the hell we are, what we’re doing, what will happen next.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Ezra says.

I peek at him from the side. “No you can’t.”

“You’re second-guessing everything.”

I pause. Am I? I consider this, deciding that’s not entirely true. “Not…second-guessing. No. Just assessing.”

“Evaluating the evidence?”

“What evidence?”

“Hm.” He pushes his plate away, turning in his seat to lean on the counter with one arm. He uses his other hand to hold up one finger. “Item one: You stayed the night.” He holds up another finger. “Item two: You’re eating breakfast with me without threatening me with bodily harm—”

“There’s still time,” I snort.

“And item three…” His lips curl in a blinding smile, one that makes my stomach twist. “You totally like me, Dani.”

I stare at him, stunned, torn between wanting to lash out at his arrogance and kiss the stupid smile off his face. Maybe both. Has it always been both? “That evidence seems circumstantial.”

“Oh, I have several cited sources.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to object.”

“Oh?” His fingers find my hip, teasing me where his shirt has rucked up from the way I’m sitting. “On what grounds?”