“When drones became popular, I got into those too. It’s not quite the same as flying a plane—the aerodynamics are completely different. Less concern about wind direction, lift, stall speed.” I pause, then add quickly, “But they’re still fun to maneuver. And because they’re so stable, they’re great for video. I mean—sorry. I don’t want to bore you with?—”
“Oh, please do.” She leans in a fraction. “It’s actually really fascinating.”
“I started with drone racing—high-speed obstacle courses with tight maneuvering. I even placed first in a few competitions. In college, I shifted into aerial video. I uploaded footage to stock sites and ended up making enough to cover my tuition. Eventually, I turned it into a business.”
“That’s really amazing. Ambitious too.”
I duck my head, smiling despite myself. “Thanks. I really love what I do.” I glance up at her. “What about you? How’d you end up as a librarian?”
A warm smile curves her mouth. “I loved stories as a kid. I’d stay up for hours under the covers with a flashlight, reading until my mom caught me. It just… felt right to build a life around books.”
I smile before I can stop myself. Maybe the awkward phase is finally behind us.
We eat in mostly comfortable silence. I want to fill it, but I’m wary of what might escape my mouth. Thankfully, she guides the conversation toward upcoming library events—partnering with local youth sports teams for book drives and community nights.
After dessert, I grab the bill and leave cash on the table. Far more than necessary. A quick mental calculation tells me I’ve tipped close to forty percent. Apparently, the nervous energy is still alive and well. It’s already down, though. Taking it back would be worse.
Outside, the cool night air brushes my face as I walk her to her car—crisp enough to clear my head, but not enough to steady my pulse. Even in late summer, Minnesota nights can carry a lingering chill once the sun sets.
She smiles up at me. “Thanks. I had a nice time.”
Nice. Safe. But she didn’t bolt the moment sea cucumbers entered the conversation, so that has to count for something. Right?
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe we could… do this again?”
“Maybe.” She nods, her gaze drifting toward her car. “I should get going.”
“Oh! I’m—uh—standing exactly where the door opens.” I step aside.
She reaches for the handle. I panic and move to close the door for her—except she’s already closing it—so my hand lands lightly against the window instead. We stare at each other through the glass for one long, immortal second. I offer a tight smile and an awkward wave. She gives me a polite nod before starting the engine and pulling away.
Not the worst date ever. Who am I kidding? It absolutely was. Worse than the one with my parents.
Owen
How’d the date go?
Miles
Nice.
Owen
Well, I’m guessing from the reply back it’s over.
Miles
It went terrible. I can’t do this dating thing.
Owen
What happened?
Miles
I compared her soup to sea cucumbers, then over explained sea cucumbers. Then I asked her about the bathrooms.
Owen
