Scarlett stands on your doorstep, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a nervous smile in the other. She looks amazing — casual jeans, soft sweater, boots — but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

Not because she’s unsure of you.

But because this is your home. Your space.

That means she’s about to see the unedited version of you — laundry piles, cluttered bookshelves, whatever secret tea collection you’ve got shoved into a cupboard.

She knocks twice, like she’s rehearsed it. Then once more, lighter.

You swing the door open with a smile that melts her.

“Hey,” she says, stepping inside. “Wow. You smell like cinnamon. That’s either your perfume or you’ve been baking, and I’m about to fall in love with both.”

You laugh, and just as she leans in to kiss your cheek—

BARK.

A small, chaotic missile launches from behind the couch.

Scarlett jumps half a step back.

“What the hell was that?”

You grin, scooping up a wildly excited creature from the floor. “Scarlett… meet Moose.”

Scarlett blinks. “Moose? That thing is like… the size of a throw pillow.”

“She has the energy of a raccoon on espresso,” you say proudly, cradling the little fluffball.

Scarlett stares, wine bottle still in hand, as Moose wiggles in your arms, then leaps into hers without warning.

“Oh—okay! We’re doing this!” she laughs, awkwardly catching the dog against her chest. “Is this… normal?”

“She likes beautiful women,” you tease.

Scarlett raises a brow. “Then I’m flattered. But I draw the line at tongue-kisses on the first date, Moose.”

Moose barks again. Probably in disagreement.

⸻

Scarlett is curled on your couch, Moose draped over her lap like he owns the place. She’s absently scratching his ears, wearing one of your oversized hoodies now, a wine glass balanced dangerously on the armrest.

“I came here to make a move on you,” she says dryly. “Instead, I got emotionally manipulated by a six-pound dog with abandonment issues.”

You smile. “Still glad you came?”

She glances over at you, eyes soft.

“Yeah. But next time I’m bringing treats. For both of you.”

You raise a brow. “Oh? What kind for me?”

Scarlett smirks. “The kind that take longer to unwrap.”