You almost canceled the listing. It was a dumb idea anyway — who buys a couch off Facebook at 11 p.m. on a Sunday?

But then he messaged.

Lando, 25. “Still got the couch?” And: “Can pick it up tonight. I’ve got a van.”

You expected a middle-aged dad in cargo shorts. What you got instead was a tall, curly-haired guy in sweats who smelled like cologne and motor oil, holding an energy drink and looking slightly too chaotic to be trusted.

“This the couch?” he asked, like he hadn’t already seen twelve photos of it.

“Yeah,” you said. “You sure you want it?”

He flopped down on it like he was testing a race car. Looked up at you with a smirk. “Comfier than mine. Plus, I spilled nachos on mine yesterday.”

Charming.

You ended up helping him carry it down three flights of stairs. He tripped once. You both laughed so hard you almost dropped it. When it finally made it into the van, he leaned against it, breathing hard.

“You got good taste,” he said, nudging your shoulder. “If I hate this thing, I’m blaming you.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a couch.”

He grinned, already halfway into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, but now it’s our origin story.”

And just like that — he drove off with your couch and your brain short-circuited a little.

He DM’d you the next day.

“Update: the couch is perfect. But I think you left something in the cushions…”

You didn’t.

But you replied anyway.