What’s another date gone wrong?
The next morning, my alarm drills into my brain like a toddler with a drum set.
When I check my phone, I see two missed calls from Tess.
Of course.
I sit up and take a breath. I don’t feel like telling her how it went, but I know I’m going to have to.
Twenty minutes later, I’m ready. Five minutes after that, I’m at the bakery.
“How was it?” Tess calls the second the door opens.
“Good morning,” I reply, heading straight for the coffeemaker.
“Don’t do that,” she says, following me. “How was the date?”
I take a sip of coffee that’s too hot and wince before answering.
“I thought it was going well,” I admit. “He was nice. He seemed interested.” I pause, staring into my cup. “I almost forgot he’s… him.”
The memory hits again, sharp and unwelcome.
“A couple was sitting next to us,” I continue. “And Zane had his hand on mine.”
“Oh my God, that’s so cute,” Tess cuts in, already smiling.
“But when the girl tried to take a picture like sneaky, paparazzi-style, he dropped my hand.”
Tess’s smile fades.
“He did?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a shrug. “He definitely didn’t want to be seen with me.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Tess says immediately.
I glance at her.
“First of all, what is there to be embarrassed about?” she continues. “Second, he knew who you were before he asked you out, right? Why would that suddenly change?”
I hesitate.
“Are you sure it was about you?” she adds. “Could it have been something else?”
For a second, doubt flickers.
But I shake it off.
“I really can’t think of anything else,” I say. “Anyway… it was fine. A couple of good hours.”
The laugh that follows feels thin, even to me.
Tess studies me, but doesn’t push.
“Don’t let this get to you,” she says gently before heading back to work.
The rest of the morning settles into routine.
