Danny shakes his head. "Nah, it's six," he says, sliding his eggs onto the fork and taking a long bite before holding up a hand. "So first, we did that breakfast thing. And then two was when you took me surfing and I called you all those really ungrateful things and stormed back to the hut to sulk in peace. Three was dinner," he counts, still ticking it off on his fingers. "Four was the jazz club after I talked to Rachel and we listened to that piano stuff. Five was that nature hike where I got bit by every insect alive and then six'll be tonight's dinner. I plan on cooking you pasta."