Tangy-sweet scent of lemon bars clung to you as you walked up the driveway, the small box balanced in your hands.

You knocked lightly, the sound almost swallowed by the soft chirping of birds. Seconds stretched out, long enough for you to start second-guessing yourself. Maybe this was just a bit overkill. Maybe Lee was tired of the daily pastries and—

The door creaked open, and there she was. Lee, standing in the doorway in a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, hair tousled from sleep. She blinked at you, her eyes—brown, gentle, doe-eyed—taking a moment to focus. The sight of her made your chest tighten, the same way it did every morning.

“Morning,” you murmured, your voice carefully even as you held out the box.

Lee’s gaze dropped to the package, then back to you. “Morning,” she replied, her voice rough with sleep. She took the box, her fingers brushing yours briefly—you were two seconds from dropping to the ground. Definitely not an exaggeration.

“Lemon bars,” you explained, as if the note and the powdered sugar-dusted treats inside didn’t already make that abundantly clear. “Thought I’d change things up a bit.”

Her mouth twitched in what might’ve been a smile, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. “Thanks. You really don’t have to keep bringing these by, you know.”

You waved it off as if you hadn’t woken up before dawn to bake them fresh.

She glanced at the box again, her brows knitting slightly, like she was trying to figure out some hidden meaning. Maybe she was. Maybe you wanted her to. But instead of saying anything, she gave you a small nod. “Appreciate it.”

Lee stood there, watching you try to formulate a sentence without embarrassing yourself horrendously. She could practically see the cogs whirling round n’ round in your head. Embarrassing, really. Maybe you should…dunno…say something?