And forgot my own name.
He was tall, even sitting down, broad-shouldered in a soft gray sweater that made his green eyes look brighter. He haddark hair brushed back from his forehead, and a neat beard that framed a mouth that seemed to be on the verge of a smile.
“Hi,” he said, warm and calm, the smooth timbre of his voice sending butterflies alight in my stomach. “I’m Troy Joshua Barker.”
His voice was low and thoughtful, with the faintest hint of a laugh.
“I’m Hope,” I managed past the lump in my throat.
He smiled and nodded in response. “Nice to meet you, Hope.” He held out his hand to me, and his strong grasp surrounding my fingers sent a spark through me. “Let’s get the boring stuff out of the way, shall we?” he offered. “I’m a research scientist. It’s mostly boring lab work. I enjoy cooking on the rare occasions I’m home alone, meditation to help me center myself, and flying drones in the park when I feel the need to let my childish side out.”
He tilted his head to the side when I remained mute. “What makes you happy, Hope?”
Well. That was... unfair.
What kind of question was that to answer in a short speed date? Was I supposed to hand over my soul between bites of cucumber sandwich?
The silence stretched just long enough for panic to creep in. Other than introducing myself, I hadn’t said a single word. The clock on the wall ticked far too loudly. Any second now he’d glance at it, give me a polite nod, and mentally file me underdud.
Instead, his smile softened.
He reached across the table and offered his hand. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Take a breath. It’s not a trick question. Just tell me what you like.”
Oh.
Right.
He wasn’t asking for the meaning of my existence. He just wanted... to know me.
I slipped my hand into his. His palm was warm and comforting.
“I don’t have that many hobbies,” I admitted with a small shrug. “I work. I read when I can. And I jog to keep myself healthy.” I winced. “I’m super boring, honestly.”
Troy studied me for a moment, and instead of looking disappointed, he kept smiling at me.
“Reading and running makes you boring?” he asked gently. “What do you read?”
I struggled not to hide my face behind my hands. I couldn’t have been a more painfully awkward date if I tried, making this man force every bit of conversation.
Obviously, on the first speed date where I actually liked the man across the table, I would turn into a mumbling, bumbling idiot.
Get it together, Hope.
“Mostly fiction,” I said. “Fantasy and historical. I really love reading books where the character’s life is messier than mine.”
His mouth twitched. “I read somewhere that escapism is a perfectly respectable coping mechanism.”
I snorted, sending him a shy smile. “That sounds suspiciously scientific.”
He looked at me with a blank expression on his face. “I am a scientist, after all,” he reminded me, mock serious.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The tension that had been coiled tight in my chest all afternoon loosened another notch.
“And jogging?” he continued. “Do you enjoy it, or is it just something you feel you need to do?”
I winced. “I... see it as a necessary evil.”
