“This is stupid,” I muttered, pulling off the forest green button-down I’d just tried on and tossing it onto the growing pile on my bed. “It’s just coffee.”
But it wasn’t just coffee. Not when Sean had said, “I’m ready now,” and looked at me like I was worth risking everything for. That kind of look messed with a guy. Got under the skin.
So yeah. I wanted to look good. After trying on a third shirt, running both hands through my hair in frustration, and swearing under my breath, I finally did the one thing I swore I wouldn't.
I called Rafael. He picked up on the second ring, looking way too smug already.
“You’re calling me before the date? What, you need a pep talk?” Rafael asked.
I turned the camera around to show the battlefield that was my bed. “I need help.”
There was a long beat of silence. Then he burst out laughing. Loud, unfiltered, full-on belly laughing.
I scowled. “I’m serious.”
Rafael wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh my god. Beau, you’re acting like this is a second-chance prom night.”
“Rafael.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up a hand and getting serious fast. “You want lowkey hot or effortless soft?”
I blinked. “…Those are real categories?”
“Trust me,” he said.
Twenty minutes and three outfit switches later, I settled on a soft black buttoned-up shirt and dark jeans with my old leather jacket thrown over top. Not too try-hard. Still me.
“You’re welcome,” Rafael said, smug again.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, though I meant it.
“Now go get him, you grizzly bastard.”
I rolled my eyes, ended the call, and headed out before I could lose my nerve. The moment I saw Sean waiting outside the café, my nerves took on a different shape.
Because he looked nervous, too. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, bouncing slightly on his heels.
His curls looked soft in the afternoon light, wind-tousled, and his lips quirked when he spotted me.
“You’re late,” he said.
“You’re early,” I replied, matching his grin. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”
He rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed. “Let’s just get inside.”
The café was warm and smelled like burnt sugar and hazelnut. We found a small table by the window. Sean ordered something fancy with oat milk and cinnamon; I stuck to black coffee.
Still, I couldn’t stop staring at him while we waited. At the way his fingers curled around the cup, the flick of his lashes when he laughed, the tiny nick on his jaw I hadn't noticed before.
We talked about small things first. His culinary school horror stories, my failed first attempt at sourdough, and then the cat incident.
“I still can’t believe Cass shimmied up a tree,” Sean said, grinning wide.
That got a laugh out of me, loud and real.
“The old lady brought him a pie as thanks. A whole cherry pie, which he didn’t share with the rest of us,” I said.
“He deserved it,” Sean said with mock seriousness. “He risked his life for a kitty.”
