Page 47 of The Moment I Knew

My skin prickled. I murmured a distracted, “Thanks,” still staring at the ground.

“No, I mean it,” he went on, clearly encouraged. “Like… really good. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked up to the car.”

That hadn’t been a compliment so much as an observation, but I didn’t bother correcting him. I shifted my weight, the cold seeping through the soles of my shoes.

He stepped closer again, just enough that I could smell his cologne, sharp and too strong in the cold air. “You clean up nice,” he added, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on a secret.

My shoulders tightened. “We should probably go,” I said lightly, gesturing toward the parking lot.

He laughed under his breath. “Sure.” Before I could respond, he reached out again—not to my hair this time, but to the sleeve of my coat, fingers brushing my wrist as if to anchor me there.

I stiffened.

The light from the shop flickered as someone passed by inside, briefly illuminating Mitch’s face—and for a second, the grin slipped, replaced by something faintly irritated.

Then it was back, brighter than before. “You’re kind of adorable when you play hard to get,” he said.

My stomach dropped.

“I’m not playing,” I said quietly.

He tilted his head, studying me, like he was deciding whether that was true. “Sure you are. Do you know how many girls would kill to be taken out like that?” He nodded back toward the shop, like frozen yogurt and awkward conversation were some grand gesture.

“Then feel free to take one of them out next time.”

“But I don’t want to date someone else, I want to date you.”

I glanced up at him then, meeting his eyes for a brief second. “Mitch, I’m flattered. Really, but I told you I don’t really like dates.”

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “But you’ve gotta admit, there’s something there. Don’t you feel that spark between us too?”

I shifted again, the concrete cold under my feet, the glow from the shop suddenly feeling too bright. “I’m sorry, I just don’t.”

He leaned back against the window, folding his arms, blocking the most direct path toward the parking lot without fully meaning to—or maybe meaning to just enough. “Well why don’t we try a second date. A different location. Out of town maybe, so that guy can’t ruin it this time.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, determined to just call it a night and get home.

Before I could move, he reached out again, slower this time, like he was giving me time to pull away. His fingers brushed the edge of my sleeve, then slid lightly to my hand.

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

I didn’t yank my hand back. I should have. Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, hating the way my body seemed to freeze instead of react.

“Please, Imogen,” he said quietly. “I’m just trying to see where we stand.”

I swallowed, feeling slightly guilty for disappointing him. “We’re standing right here. That’s it.”

He chuckled under his breath, thumb brushing once over my knuckles, too familiar for someone who hadn’t earned it. “If we could just have a date where he doesn’t show up, then I think you’ll see⁠—”

I pulled my hand free.

“I don’t want this,” I said, still calm, still measured, even though my pulse was racing. “I’ve been pretty clear about that.”

His smile faltered for half a second, then reshaped itself into something more determined. “Imogen⁠—”

“I’m sorry, Mitch. I really am. It’s just not going to happen,” I said. He stared at me for a beat, his expression melting into disbelief. I shifted on my feet in the awkwardness, then, without looking at him, I quietly said, “Can you take me home now?”

That seemed to annoy him. He straightened, jaw tightening just a little. “Wow,” he said. “You make it sound like I forced you to be out here tonight.”