“I’m not gonna cry,” she tells him, but it’s too late. Her lip quivers and her breath catches at his confession, and a set of fat tears spill over and roll down her cheeks. He’s so achingly sweet, and she knows that she could get hurt again so badly.

“I told Sweeney about you because I— I like you, too. And I wasn’t expecting to like someone again, and I needed advice,” she tells him, then lets out a frustrated huff and looks at the screen pleadingly.

“Can you come over?” She asks him, sniffling a bit. “I know it’s late but I don’t want to talk about this when your face is only two inches tall.”