He escorts her to the door, her hand in his having claimed it while helping her from the speeder. She turns and leans against the door, a coyness playing on her lips.

“Do I get my hand back?”

Laughter shines in his eyes. “Do I get a kiss?”

She darts forward, her lips briefly caressing his, an electric shock of touch and sensation.

Then she pulls away, and her hand slips free. The door opens, and Ben sees the patched window.

“Can I see you again?”

She enters her apartment, and as the door closes, he hears her reply. “Tomorrow.”