Excerpt 1: “Be in My Bubble” Proposal
“You’re on top of me,” she blurted out, referring to his apartment’s location. The second the words left her mouth, her face erupted in an instant rash of crimson.

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip. “Alright, Emily. It’s night one. Catch you later.”

Her rubbish hit the floor, instant-noodle and crisp packets flopping out, as she locked eyes with Robbie. The shock of seeing him made her feel as if she was standing in sand, immobile, stuck.

Robbie. Her brother’s friend Robbie. Tall, Australian, self-assured. His chiselled good looks and broad build made him look like the fourth Hemsworth brother, but his floppy dark hair and soulful eyes were more Dev Patel.

“What are you doing here?” she said, staring down first at her rubbish and then at her T-shirt, which featured an illustration of a twerking corgi. The lone pimple on her chin seemed to pulsate to house music.

He smiled, dimples deepening. “Maybe we could be in each other’s bubble a bit. Stop ourselves from fully hermiting. Seems safe if we haven’t seen anyone else.”

Excerpt 2: Robbie’s Dinner Gesture and Bubble Formation
He stood outside apartment 525 with a foil-covered plate of prawn orzo. His conversation with Priya had kind of bummed him out—she wasn’t wrong, but everything was too fresh for the truth to not feel like an abrasive ego bruise.

But his irritation lifted as Emily opened the door. This is exactly what I needed. She smiled, looking straight into his eyes for a touch longer than was the social norm. Robbie was taken aback. He didn’t expect to be, but something about staring into her hazel eyes—parts of them were almost yellow—and seeing her smile without a judgmental smirk made his perception shift.

Robbie was a ladies’ man, to be fair, and he always knew Emily was kind of hot—long legs, gorgeous curves—but in that moment, the first time he’d really stared directly at her face, he saw that she was beautiful.

“Here’s your dinner.” He managed to appear calm and confident, even though his mind was buzzing—‘the king of faking it till you make it.’

“Thanks so much.” She took the plate, holding it from below as if she were a fine-dining waiter. Silence. Too much of it.:

Excerpt 3: Robbie and Emily’s First Genuine Connection
“You’re so hard to read,” she said, her voice soft but direct. They were sitting on her couch, the remains of their shared dinner scattered on the coffee table.

Robbie raised an eyebrow, his dimples just visible in the lamplight. “Hard to read? I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

“Oh, yeah? Obvious how?” she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He hesitated, his confidence faltering for just a second. Then, leaning forward, he said, “I like you, Emily. More than I should, maybe. You’re funny, sharp, and way too good at pretending you’re not stunning. I keep thinking about you.”

Her heart raced, but she tried to keep her cool, fiddling with a thread on her sleeve. “I’m a bit of a mess, though. You know that, right?”

“Aren’t we all?” His voice was quiet now, serious. “You think I’m not? I’ve lost almost everything I thought defined me—my job, my relationship, my sense of who I even was. And here I am, sitting in a random apartment, unsure of what comes next.”

She met his gaze, her fingers stilling. “But you seem so… put together.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “That’s the trick, isn’t it? Everyone’s winging it, Emily. Some are just better at hiding it.”

There was a pause, a moment stretched out, thick with something unspoken. Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, they leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching.

“You don’t have to hide anything with me,” she murmured.

His lips curved into a smile, and before she could overthink it, he kissed her—softly at first, then with more urgency. Time seemed to freeze, the only sounds the faint hum of the fridge and the rhythm of their breath.

When they pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her heart pounding. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and whispered, “No more pretending, okay?”

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from grinning too widely. “Okay.”

Excerpt 4: Emily and Robbie’s Honest Confessions
“I feel compelled to see you, to be around you. I know it’s weird as we’ve only been sharing a bubble for about a week. But I don’t think I’ve felt this way before, and I wanted to tell you, because the present moment and the world shifting so much feels like a time for honesty.”  

He stopped and exhaled with relief. Emily continued to sit excruciatingly still, giving nothing away. Her pregnant pause worried him.  

“Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” she finally replied. “I’m not great at receiving compliments, to be honest. But I do feel the same. I’d say if you had to describe my attitude to dating in the past with one word, it would be doubt. With you, the word is determination. I feel determined to see you, determined to get to know you, determined to give this a shot.”  

Actions speak louder than words, and so he leaned in to kiss her. How can something feel so sweet and sexy at the same time? Their lips pulled at each other, and Emily’s hand softly slipped under his shirt. He leaned back, cradled her face in his hands, and peppered a flutter of kisses down her cheek and neck.  

Excerpt 5: A Dance That Turns Intimate
She took Robbie’s hand. With his other arm, he swooped her up off the counter, spinning her around with ease so that he was eventually holding her cradled, like he’d just rescued her from the ocean.  

They spun around a few times, slowly, before placing her on the dance floor, a.k.a. the one tiny bit of clear space between her couch and table. Her breath quickened, even though he was the one who had done all the work, and they stood face to face. She was still as stone, but her insides were dragonfly fluttery. Being watched by him was like being drenched in a golden spotlight.  

Breaking the moment, Robbie whipped out a mock cheesy finger snap, and she couldn’t help but laugh. The eruption of a chuckle and the vulnerability of his bad dancing helped her loosen up, and she started shimmying and flinging her hair back and forth. This felt good. Joyous, she threw her arms up in the air and spun herself around, three-sixty. Robbie responded with some slick bhangra moves, his strong legs pumping up and down as if he was in a coordinated aerobics class, his hands gesturing like he was spinning a cricket ball.  

Then, as The Weeknd began to croon *“I’m blinded by the lights,”* they magneted towards each other until their bodies were pressed together from knee to hip. Robbie wrapped his arms around her back. She melted, soft against his wide body’s hardness.