“Cool. I’m up and ready now,” he added, “so give me like thirty minutes to call and get everything handled. I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay,” I said, still smiling like a teenager about to skip class.
“See you then,” he said before hanging up.
I pulled into the parking lot ten minutes early on purpose. I needed time to go inside to breathe and gather myself.
The sandwich shop was small, tucked between two boutique storefronts. Inside, it smelled like warm bread and herbs, soft music playing low enough that conversations stayed private. Just like he said, there was a ducked-off section toward the back.
I slid into the seat and set my purse beside me, resting my hands in my lap like that would stop them from shaking.
Relax, Khloe. You’re not doing anything wrong.
Still, my heart was beating like I was about to walk into court unprepared.
I’d seen one picture of him, but pictures never tell the full truth. I hadn’t even Googled him properly since I didn’t know his full name. That alone felt unlike me.
I was staring at the menu when I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up. And for a second… I forgot how to inhale.
Stacks was tall—every bit of 6’4—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black turtleneck like it had been tailored specifically for him. His build wasn’t gym-bulky; it was athleticand solid. Wide receiver energy for real. His skin was smooth with a full beard lined.
His locs were pulled into a neat bun, freshly retwisted, clean enough to make me irrationally nervous. Then I noticed his nose ring.
Oh my God.
I stood quickly, extending my hand out of pure instinct. “Hi—”
But he didn’t take it.
Instead, he smiled and stepped forward, wrapping me into a hug. His body literally swallowed mine. His chest was solid, arms strong without squeezing too tight. It felt protective but respectful. The hug lingered long enough to make your brain short-circuit.
His scent was amazing. I didn’t know what cologne that was, but it deserved a research paper. I silently prayed he never stopped wearing it.
When we pulled back, he looked down at me and smiled, and that’s when I saw his grill.
It wasn’t too flashy, but just enough to catch the light when he smiled. I’d never been a grill girl. Until right then.
“Khloe,” he said, voice smooth. “It’s really nice to finally meet you.”
“Hi,” I managed, feeling ridiculous because that was all my brain would give me.
We sat down across from each other. He rested his forearms on the table, sleeves hugging his muscles. The nose ring caught my attention again, and I almost laughed thinking about how badly I wanted to call Coffee and scream.
She would lose her damn mind.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… you look even better than your picture.”
He laughed. “That’s great to hear. I would hate to be labeled as a catfish.”
“Oh trust me,” I said, exhaling, “I’m trying very hard to keep it together.”
That made him smile wider, causing my nerves to ease.
We ordered our food, but neither of us touched the menus or our phones again. Instead, we talked.
Surprisingly it wasn’t the polite, surface-level kind of talking. It was the kind that slipped up on you when you didn’t realize you’d let your guard down until it was already gone.
