"Probably," Sam agrees, though it takes her a minute to actually make a move in that direction. She steps back and she's a little unsteady on her strappy heels, and she grips the lapels of Jack's jacket to steady herself while she slips her feet out of them. This rush feels a little like being drunk, a little like being high, and she wonders for a moment if there's some island-Valentine's-Day-thing affecting her--but no. It's just Jack. It's okay.

She nods in the direction of her bedroom and tugs on his jacket.