“It’s not what you think,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to disappear, Flyn. It wasn’t like that. It just... things got complicated, and I needed some space. I didn’t know how to explain it to you, or anyone.”
I nod slowly, processing his words. “I get that,” I say, even though I don’t completely understand. “It’s just... it was weird. I thought I did something wrong. You know?”
Jade shakes his head, his fingers brushing the rim of his wineglass again, lost in thought. “No. Nothing you did. It’s all on me.”
The way he says that makes me ache for him, even though I’m not sure what’s really going on beneath the surface. There’s something about him that’s so guarded, so careful with his emotions. I want to dig deeper, ask him why he’s holding back, but I don’t. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
Instead, I focus on his smile. It’s soft now, more genuine than the false grins he used to flash around the call center. I can’t help but feel a little lighter as he meets my eyes again.
“So,” I say, leaning forward a bit, “How’s your life now? What’s the plan for the future?”
Jade’s face softens, and he seems to relax a little at the question. “I’m still figuring that out. I’m not exactly where I want to be, but I’m getting there. It’s all about taking it day by day, right?”
“Yeah, I get that,” I say, and I mean it. I’ve been in that same place, stuck in the ‘what’s next?’ phase, constantly second-guessing myself. But somehow, sitting here with him, I feel like I’m not as alone in that feeling as I usually am.
The food arrives, breaking the silence between us. The waiter sets the plates down in front of us with a flourish, and for a moment, we both focus on the food, a welcome distraction. But I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how every glance feels like it means something more than just casual interest.
“I forgot how good this place is,” I say, breaking the tension. “You ever been here before?”
Jade takes a bite of his pasta, his eyes narrowing slightly as he chews. “Yeah, a couple of times. My friend Ned used to bring me here. It’s his favorite spot.”
“Must be a good friend, then.”
Jade chuckles. “Yeah. He’s alright. He’s... we aren’t getting on that well at the moment.”
I pause, realizing I’ve stumbled onto a subject he clearly doesn’t want to dwell on. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“No, it’s okay,” Jade cuts in, his voice soft but firm. “I just... don’t really like talking about this stuff. It’s complicated. But hey, let’s focus on the food. We’ve got plenty of time to talk about other stuff.”
I nod, relieved he’s steering the conversation away from anything too heavy. The atmosphere lifts, and I just enjoy the simple act of eating, and it feels... nice. Comfortable. There’s no pressure. No tension. Just two people, enjoying each other’s company.
But the more I think about it, the more I realize that this dinner? This quiet, simple night out with Jade? It feels like it could be something more. And I can’t help but wonder if Jade feels it too.
Chapter five
Jade
The wine glass is motionless on the table. It catches a flicker of light from the streetlamp beyond the open window, shimmering against the wall like it’s pretending to be something magical. Like it belongs in a painting. Not in my unglamorous shared kitchen, not next to the chipped bowl in the sink or the cleaning rota stuck to the fridge with magnets.
The whole house is quiet. Everyone is either asleep or out living their lives. I feel alone. Very alone, like I have been transported to a shadow realm and I’m the only living soul.
I should go to bed.
It’s good that no one is around. I’d be miserable company.
I should pour the wine out and put the glass in the sink. I should brush my teeth. Sleep. Dream something forgettable.
Instead, I’m sitting here in the half-dark, still wearing my hoodie even though the night is warm. Elbows on the table. Hands around the wine stem like I’m waiting for it to say something. Waiting for it to explain how dinner turned into whatever that was.
Because it wasn’t a date. Right?
We both said it. Repeated it, even. Not a date. Just catching up. Just two friends, ex-colleagues, reconnecting after a year of radio silence and one random coffee. Totally normal.
So why did it feel like I was glowing the whole time? Why did every smile feel like it was made just for me? Why did his hand brush mine on purpose?
I close my eyes, but all it does is make the memory sharper.
Flyn’s laugh. His low, easy voice. The way he looked at me when I said I’d been... touchier than usual. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just smiled and said, “I don’t mind.”
