“Well, I gotta get back upstairs,” she says, hooking her thumb behind her, toward the elevator.
I give her a tiny tilt of my chin. “Have a good one.”
Email correspondence between Veronica Cochran and Jude Tilde
Subject: Freedom!
Date: February 6, 2026
Hi Jude,
This feels weirdly sneaky, like I’m breaking a rule, but I like it.
I, too, am single. I’m 28, so according to my grandmother I’m close to being a dried-up old husk of a spinster, but according to my married sister, I’m living the life and should be dating every night of the week. Which, sadly, I don’t do.
I think partly that’s because I worked with a bunch of deeply toxic men at PitchSlapped, and partly because I’m really bad at first dates? Like, I hate them. I hate the small talk cycle and that so many men I meet don’t do sarcasm or banter. It’s often like going on a date with a résumé—always so much sincere humblebragging—and no one gets my sense of humor. Someday I will find my banter king. I know he’s out there.
-V
V,
If your date banter is half as entertaining as your emails, I think you’d be great first date material.
-J
Jude,
Are you asking me out?
-V
Veronica,
Maybe I am?
-J
Jude,
Do I need to answer in the form of a question?
-V
Veronica,
It does sort of feel like you should?
-J
Jude,
Okay then in that case I’d love to go out with you sometime?
-V
Veronica,
How does a week from today, 2/13, sound?
