I snort quietly.
Ideal. At this point, I’d settle fornot awkward.
I picture it. Sitting across from someone. Talking. Laughing. Leaving at a sensible hour without anyone feeling rejected or misled. No mental countdown. No pressure to perform. Just… company.
I type.
Me
Coffee. Walk. Somewhere we can talk without shouting over music.
That feels safe. Boring, maybe, but safe.
She replies almost instantly.
Sophia
That sounds really nice.
I pause, surprised by the small rush of relief.
Huh. Maybe this isn’t impossible. Maybe I’m just out of practice at doing things without a script.
My phone buzzes again.
Sophia
Are you free this weekend?
My stomach flips. Not panic. Anticipation. The manageable kind.
Me
Saturday evening?
Sophia
Perfect.
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling.
Right. So. A date. A real one. With no bedroom waiting at the end like a finish line.
I should feel nervous.
Instead, I feel… oddly calm.
Which is when my brain, traitorous as ever, decides to serve up Christa. Sitting on her sofa. Ice cream melting. Laughing at me. Offering to coach me through this like it’s a project plan.
I groan and cover my eyes with my arm.
Focus, Geoff.
This is fine. This is normal. This is exactly what Pee-Pee meant.
I lower my arm and glance at the phone again, the confirmed plans sitting there quietly.
A date that ends with a goodbye.
