“Nine days,” he repeats, trying not to think about the countdown clock in his head, the creepy one he tries not to acknowledge. What’s nine days, anyway? That’s barely a week.

No, Steve. Stop it.

“I guess that’s true,” he says instead, staring at her while she looks around the living room. Contrary to what people might think, Steve isn’t a slob. He’s been picking up after himself since he was a kid, because his dad would get so pissed off if he didn’t. He generally tried to avoid pissing his dad off. Between him and Robin, the place stays pretty tidy. He’s glad for that now.

“Well, you’re free to hang out here,” he tells her, shrugging one shoulder and trying not to let it show how eager he is for her to be in his space. “Robin’s out with Rue, so there’s just me for company.”

Fuck. Maeve has been here before, but only when Robin is here. She acted like a buffer, cutting through the sexual tension with her presence, but now his best friend has abandoned him in his and his dick’s time of need.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asks as he slides by her to step into the kitchen and open the refrigerator, bending over to inspect the contents. God, they suck at grocery shopping. “Looks like we have beer and that sparkling water shit Robin likes.”