He shakes his head, those storm-blue eyes warm and steady.
"You have a choice," he says firmly. "This is your life, Mae. I know the government makes it hard for us. I know the regulations and the deadlines and the pressure from families who think they know what is best. But at the end of the day, do you not want to be happy with the ones you choose? Not the ones your mother chose for you?"
I think about it.
Really think about it, turning the question over in my mind like a stone I am examining for cracks.
Happy. When was the last time I was actually happy? Not just surviving. Not just getting through the day. Genuinely, deeply, soul-level happy?
I do not remember.
That is both terrifying and incredibly sad.
I nod slowly.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I want to be happy."
He smiles, and this time it reaches his eyes fully. Lights them up in a way that makes my pulse stutter.
"Well," he says, tilting his head with that playful expression returning to his features. "I mean, if you do not want to wait until Valentine's Day for that first date... why do we not go on one once you settle in?"
I gawk at him.
Full-on, mouth-hanging-open, brain-short-circuiting gawk.
Heat floods my cheeks so fast I am surprised I do not combust on the spot.
Etienne seems to realize what he just said at the exact same moment, his own face flushing a shade of pink that travels from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
"Oh fuck," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think I am pulling a Rafe there. Being too forward." He clears his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But since you are on a timeline, do you not want to at least experience a few dates so you know what you like or do not like? Figure out what you want in a potential partner before the deadline hits?"
He glances at me, still flushed.
"Unless you have already been on some. Dates, I mean. In which case, ignore me. I am overstepping."
The blush on my face intensifies to a degree that should be medically concerning.
"No," I admit, my voice coming out smaller than I intended. "I have not been on any dates. Per se. Like, actual dates where someone picks you up and takes you somewhere and you have conversations and it is romantic? No. Zero. None."
I fiddle with the bagel wrapper, crumpling it into a tiny ball between my fingers.
"Sure, I have...uh..." I trail off, feeling the heat spread from my face down my neck and probably to my chest. "I mean, I have...you know..."
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. Why am I talking about this? Why is my mouth still forming words? Someone please stop me.
"Fucked," I finish abruptly, the word dropping out of my mouth like a brick. "I have... done that. A few times. With people. Consensual people. In beds. And once in a car, actually, so this location is bringing up memories I did not need right now."
I groan, slapping both hands over my face.
"Gah, this is so embarrassing. Why am I telling you this? We have known each other for like thirty hours. I do not even tell my therapist this stuff."
There is a moment of silence.
I peek through my fingers to find Etienne looking slightly pink himself, those storm-blue eyes aimed determinedly at the steering wheel like it holds the answers to life's greatest mysteries.
"Well," he says, his voice a touch too casual, a touch too careful. "At least you are ahead there."
I drop my hands from my face, my embarrassment momentarily replaced by confusion.
