It would be irritating, Molly thinks, if it didn't mean so fucking much. Not many guys she's been with have stopped to wonder that, which she's fine with, because she's never needed them to. Now, as much as she wishes it didn't have to be the case, the fact that he hasn't just taken her kissing him like this as an invitation to keep going is something she appreciates more than she knows she'd ever be able to say, her expression softening just slightly for it, more genuine than a moment before. It's just that she doesn't know how to respond, having this put back on her despite her attempt to deflect. There's no way she could tell him that she'd like to sleep with him but she probably can't because she's too fucked up for that. She doesn't want to seem disinterested, though, either. For her, this is uncharted territory, and while she doesn't regret impulsively kissing him, she never wanted to have to figure this out.

"Honestly, I hadn't really thought past the kissing part yet," she says, the words not quite as true as her phrasing would suggest. It's impossible not to think about where this could go. A year and some months ago, she wouldn't have even had to answer, would just have made her intentions clear otherwise. Instead, she can't even bring herself to ask if it's alright if they leave it at that, what would seem too close to what she doesn't want to say. Still, she stays close, not yet pulling back. Whether or not she can go any further, she is enjoying kissing him.