"Dates are—" he sighed heavily, blue eyes darting up enough from the ground to meet hers. "They're what you make 'em." He shook his head, eyes darting off, flicking to a passing man before landing back on Emma again.
She was closer now, head all cocked to the side and innocent. He couldn't help but smile at the adorable look on her face. "What makes it a date is that you realize you want more than bein' friends," he said seriously, knowing his smirk might be misinterpreted. "What makes it different is when ye realize that you think about the person more than a friend, and instead of endin' the time together with a hug, you want to end it with a kiss."
And his mind was screaming at him to do just that before she realized he sounded like a bleeding idiot. But he couldn't move, didn't want to overstep that boundary without hearing that was what she wanted, not the fancy dinners and small talk. His eyes darted down to her lips before lifting back to her own. "That's the difference, Em."