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[ her knees bump against the sides of his thighs once he's there in front of her, and she doesn't feel like she's boxing him in either, but in a way she kind of is. wants to be, anyway. god, he is so not her type. which, right now, makes him her type. it's hard to make sense of it in her head, so she stops trying. instead she's reaching to thumb at the hem of his shirt, and if it comes off as flirtatious to watch his face while she twists the fabric around her finger a little bit, then she's actually really okay with it. ]

I'm pretty stoked you swiped right. [ she grins up at him because maybe she should have said something semi-serious there, maybe he's used to sincere drunken confessions, but hers is sincere in a silly way - true, but ridiculous. ] You could have not swiped right, but you did. S'pretty great.