The address he slipped you after class is now right in front of you. You made it to the door. That part was easy. But now he's standing there, leaning against the frame like he belongs on a magazine cover, and your bag strap is the only thing keeping your hands busy. His smile is the same one he gives you in the hallway - easy, warm, a little too steady for someone whose parents are apparently out of town all weekend. He's thought about this. You can feel it. Every small detail, from the playlist drifting through the open door to the way he remembered your favorite snack on the counter inside, says he's been planning longer than he ever let on. You're here. He's here. And the door is wide open.