“It is a date,” I said.
She blinked again. “Oh.”
“Is that a problem?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “No. I just… didn’t realize we were labeling things.”
“We don’t have to label anything,” I said. “But we are eating dinner together voluntarily. That seems like date territory.”
She groaned softly. “God, you’re honest.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s devastating, is what it is.”
I smiled. “We can stick with ‘two coworkers eating food.’”
“No,” she said quickly. “No, I think…date is fine.”
Her voice dropped at the end, almost shy.
We ordered, and once the server walked away, she leaned her elbows on the table, chin resting in her hand. “You’re really trying to break down my walls, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying to know you,” I corrected. “You make that difficult when you sprint into stores and crouch behind amphibians.”
She covered her face briefly. “Please never bring that up again.”
“No promises.”
She peeked at me between her fingers, smiling despite herself. “You’re trying to charm me.”
“I don’t think I have to try very hard.”
Her breath shifted, and something warm swept through me.
But then she leaned back, gaze shifting, and asked, “What about your walls?”
I tensed before I could control it.
She noticed instantly, her eyes narrowing with gentle curiosity.
“You have some. Maybe a lot.”
“I’m fine,” I said reflexively.
“That sounds like code for ‘I’m definitely not fine.’”
I exhaled slowly. “I’m not used to talking about myself.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “But I’ve been oversharing all week. Seems only fair you get a turn.”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “You didn’t have to overshare.”
“Oh, yes, I did,” she laughed. “My mouth opens, and chaos falls out. It’s a family trait.”
I hesitated, staring at the table for a long moment.
Finally, she said, “Carson… you don’t owe me anything. Not your past. Not your feelings. Not answers. But if you want to tell me something, I’m here. And I won’t run.” Her brows lifted. “Yet.”
