Another pause lingers between us, softer than before but not awkward. Then he nods once and steps back. And just like that, he leaves again. I stand there for a second longer than I should, staring after him. My heart is doing something strange and fluttery in my chest.
“Well,” Freddie’s voice cuts in beside me, full of barely contained excitement. “How do you feel?”
I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly as I turn back to the counter. “I didn’t expect that.”
“No kidding,” he says. “Mysterious brooding man goes from intense staring to asking you out like it’s a done deal? I love this for you.”
“I don’t even know him,” I mumble, though the words feel weaker now.
“You’re about to,” Freddie replies easily.
That thought settles somewhere deep. Equal parts exciting and terrifying. Because Freddie’s right. And I don’t know why, but it feels like something important.
The rest of my shift drags and flies by at the same time. Every minute feels stretched with anticipation. My mindwanders back to him, to tonight, to what this means. I catch myself smiling at nothing and everything. By the time my shift ends, I feel like I’ve been holding my breath all day.
By six, I’m ready. Or at least, as ready as I can be. Freddie covered the last twenty minutes of my shift so I could slip into the break room and change—I'd shoved a dress into my bag this morning, never guessing I’d actually need to put it on. It's nothing fancy, just soft cotton that skims my knees, but it's not the uniform, and somehow that makes it feel like a lot. I smoothed it down about a dozen times in front of the mirror, my stomach doing that fluttering thing it hasn't stopped doing all day.
I step outside the café, scanning the street. And it only takes a second to find him. He’s leaning against a dark car, arms crossed loosely. He looks even more mysterious in dark jeans and a black leather jacket.
My steps slow just slightly as I walk toward him, my heart picking up again.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as I get closer.
I feel my cheeks go hot under his stare as I smile. “Hey.”
“You ready to go?” he asks in a calm, confident tone that wraps around me.
I nod in response. He smiles warmly, then he opens the passenger door for me without another word. His cologne hits my nostrils as I slide into the seat. My pulse quickens, and my stomach clenches. The feeling is weird, warm, and delicious all at once.
The drive is quiet at first, but not uncomfortable. The kind of quiet that feels full instead of empty. I glance at him once, then again, trying not to be obvious about it. The air is thick and charged. It’s starting to affect my breathing while he looks unruffled.
His composure only pulls me further under.
I clear my throat. “So…where are we going?” I ask finally, breaking the charged silence.
“You’ll see,” he replies, glancing at me with a small smile tipping his lips.
“That sounds suspicious,” I say lightly, though there’s no real fear behind it.
His lips twitch slightly. “You nervous?”
“A little,” I admit, then quickly add, “But not in a bad way.”
“Good,” he says simply.
I lean back into the seat, letting the quiet return. It doesn’t take long before the car slows, then turns onto a street I don’t immediately recognize. A few seconds later, he parks in front of a building.
I blink, looking up at it. “This isn’t a restaurant.”
“No,” he agrees, already unbuckling his seatbelt.
I hesitate, something flickering in my chest. “Asher, where are we?”
“Wilder House,” he says. “I live here.”
“Oh…you brought me to your apartment on our first date?” I ask, confused.
A small knot tightens under my ribs. I barely know him, having only waited on him for a few weeks and spoken more than a few words for what—two days? I don’t actually know anything about him. Where he’s from, who he is when the door closes. My hand finds the strap of my bag and holds it. “I—I didn’t think we were going somewhere private. I don’t really know you, Asher. Not really.”
