pretty wordsyouleft

Suddenly, your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your window, and your heart leaped up into your throat as you jumped in surprise.

Brian was now standing next to your car, his brow furrowed in confusion, so you let your pulse slow down somewhat before opening the door to get out.

“The meeting is about to start,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you were still in your car, so I thought I’d wait for you, but then you weren’t getting out.”

“Sorry,” you replied hurriedly, reaching in to grab your copy of Pride & Prejudice before closing your car door. “I was… just zoning out, I guess.”

Brian’s look of confusion morphed into one of concern – a subtle difference, but you caught it.

…And just when did you gain the ability to pick up on the nuances of Brian’s different facial expressions, huh?

Whatever, it’s not important.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his gaze searching your face.

“Of course,” you assured him. “I think I’m just… nervous about who’s going to win the bet. I really don’t want to buy you dinner.”

You’d pulled one corner of your lips up into a smirk as you’d said that, and Brian responded by rolling his eyes.

“Didn’t you just pay for takeout the other night?”

“Because you offered to pick it up,” you pointed out. “That’s different.”

Brian opened his mouth to rebut, but apparently, thought better of it. So, instead, he said, “If we don’t go inside now, we’ll be late, and since I’m leading the discussion…”

“Lead the way,” you said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Brian hesitated briefly, and you could tell he was probably going to ask you if you were sure you were okay – so, you didn’t even give him a chance to.

“Go,” you chuckled, shooing him away from your car and following him. “Like you just said, we’ll be late!”

And, funnily enough (but not actually funny at all), now that Brian was standing/walking next to you, all of your worries seemed to fade into the background of your mind.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” one of your fellow Book Club members, June, said. “I – There’s just no way you told him that you’re a government spy who trains pigeons and he believed it!”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing and nodded slowly. “I wish it wasn’t true, but yes, I did tell him that. And he did believe me.”

The rest of the Club burst into laughter.

“I don’t know about you guys,” another member, Aimee, said. “But between the podcast, the emotional evolution, and the government spy, I have to give the bet to Y/N.”

“Your dates were bad, too, Brian,” June added with a friendly but placating smile. “But… I have to agree. Y/N’s dates were definitely worse.”

Every one else nodded and murmured their agreement, and then Aimee led a round of applause for you.

You stood from your chair, plastering an ‘I’m so grateful and humbled’ expression on your face, dramatically clutching your hands at your heart. “Wow, I can’t believe this. I’d like to thank the Academy and my ability to spot red flags from a mile away and, most of all, my best friend, Brian.”

You gestured to him sitting next to you, and he lifted one hand in acknowledgement.

“Without him, this bet wouldn’t have been possible – it would’ve just been me going on three really terrible dates.”

As you’d hoped, the room filled with appreciative chuckles.

“I don’t take this honor lightly, and I will enjoy my free meal with your generosity in mind.”

The Club applauded for you yet again, and after one final smile and wave, you took your seat.

You glanced over at Brian and saw he was clapping along with everyone else – but he was also smiling at you, and the look on his face… You didn’t want to say it was… loving, but… that’s kind of what it felt like.

Were you totally and completely imagining things? Did all of these little moments and gestures and looks actually mean something? Or was your brain being overactive?

…Unfortunately, the quickest and best way to find the answer to that would be to just ask him.

But how?

How on Earth were you supposed to ask one of your closest friends, someone you’d known for years, if the more-than-friendly tension between the two of you was real or if you were just imagining it?

Since the discussion and vote on the bet had followed the discussion of Pride & Prejudice, the Club members began to stand and disperse.

Your mind was too distracted to stay and chat with anyone, so you reached for your book and purse in silence before getting up and heading toward the door.

When you reached the small foyer of the Community Center, though, you felt someone approach you from behind – and then you saw Brian’s arm reach out and open the door for you.

Why were you surprised?

“So,” he began with a sigh. “I owe you dinner.”

To hide the buzz of activity in your brain, you raised your eyebrows and pasted a grin onto your lips. “That you do.”

“Are you… free tonight?” he asked. But then he quickly raised his wrist up to check the time. “Right now, I guess?”

Oh! He wanted to take you out to dinner right now! Tonight! 

Okay!

“I am,” you nodded. 

Before you could even begin to think of where you wanted to go, Brian took a half-step closer to you and said, “How about… Rue Saint Claire?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rearing your head back in surprise, just a little, because Rue Saint Claire was a nice restaurant. It wasn’t a Michelin-star, can’t-get-a-reservation place, per se, but it was certainly more upscale and intimate than your usual hangouts.

Your frenzied, overwrought brain told you to ask him if he was sure – wasn’t that place too expensive, too cozy, too date-like?

But what you ended up replying with was, “Sounds great.”

“If you want, we can take my car, and I can drop you back off here after?”

Perfect! Not only has Brian asked to treat you to a dinner at a really nice French restaurant that the two of you had never been to before, but now he was offering to take you there!

This was sounding suspiciously more and more like a date!

“Okay!” you replied, hearing the strain of anxiety creeping into your voice.

But if Brian heard that anxiety, he ignored it. Which was just as well, because how could you explain it to him? Even explaining it to yourself, it sounded insane.

Just to be safe, though, you followed him to his car in silence and kept the conversation during the ride there to an absolute minimum – and even then, you only talked about the Book Club discussion.

But you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with that at the dinner table, and that was more than a little daunting.

“Are you sure about this?” you murmured just after a very well-dressed maître d’ showed you to your table – a very, very cozy table tucked in the corner of this very, very cozy, dimly-lit restaurant that had soft Parisian instrumental music playing in the background.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Brian chuckled. “We just went on three really bad dates. I think we deserve something nice.”

You had been gazing around the restaurant, taking in just how intimate and quaint and nice and, frankly, romantic it was – but Brian’s answer made your gaze land on him.

“Okay, well, when you put it like that,” you said with a relenting shrug. “Yes, I agree, We deserve something nice.”

A server approached your table, then, and before you could order your usual water or diet soda, Brian requested two glasses of Bordeaux and a cheese plate for the table.

Of course, as soon as the server left, you opened your mouth to protest – but Brian beat you to it.

“We just went over this,” he said with a slight smirk. “We deserve something nice, so we’re getting something nice. You can have as many glasses of wine as you want. I’ll only have the one, and I can drive you home and pick your car up tomorrow if we have to. Deal?”

You slumped down into your chair just a bit, a frown tugging at your lips. Because he realy was doing too much! This wasn’t necessary!

But Brian was Brian, and he wasn’t going to give in. In fact, the more you protested, the more he would dig his heels in and try to make the evening even more extravagant.

“Deal,” you muttered. “Thank you.”

He replied with simply a nod, the corners of his lips forming a soft smile, and that was your final sign to just let it go. Accept your prize for winning the bet, and enjoy this night out with one of your closest friends.

As you waited for the server to return with your wine and cheese, the two of you perused the menu, chatting softly about what sounded good (everything) and whether or not you should share multiple entrees so you could try more (yes, absolutely).

Then, once the server arrived and set down your glasses and plates, took your order, and left, Brian lifted his glass of wine and held it out toward you. You did the same, and since he’d done it first, you waited for him to decide what the ‘cheers’ was for.

“To really, really awful dates,” he said, grinning softly. “May we never go on any more ever again.”

“Oh, I will cheers to that,” you chuckled before gently tapping your glass against his and taking a sip. The wine was deliciously dry and fruity, and honestly, probably the best wine you’d ever tasted. “Wow, this is really good.”

Brian hummed in agreement.

“Anyway,” you sighed, carefully setting your glass down and folding your arms on the edge of the table. “I think I’ve decided that I’m done with dating for a while.”

Maybe forever? Who’s to say?

“Oh?” Brian replied, his brow notched questioningly.

You pressed your lips together and nodded slowly. 

And you assumed that Brian would agree with you because why wouldn’t he? He’d been on three bad dates, too. Surely, he was also drained and didn’t want to waste any more time going on dates.

But, to your surprise, he frowned and said, “That’s too bad.”

You frowned right back at him.

“...How so?” you asked, your tone almost one of suspicion.

Because what did he mean?

Brian inhaled deeply then, and… if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked… nervous.

But Brian didn’t get nervous. I mean, he’d never been visibly nervous about something the whole time you’d known him, not even during presentations or exams at University.

So what on Earth could be making him nervous now?

“It’s too bad that you don’t want to go on any more dates because I was hoping this could be a date.”

…You blinked at him.

“I – what?” you gaped.

“If you don’t want to –”

“No, wait,” you interrupted, though you weren’t entirely sure why you’d interrupted other than this weird feeling in your gut that you needed to. “I just… I’m… I guess I’m… confused?”

“What, my picking When Harry Met Sally…for movie night wasn’t enough of a hint?” he asked with a chuckle.

What was that supposed to mean?!

“Hint?” you asked dumbly.

“It’s the ultimate friends-to-lovers rom-com,” he explained.

“Well, yeah, I know that, but – what – “

You paused. You took a deep breath. And then you reached over, placing a hand on Brian’s wrist.

“I need you to explain everything to me without leaving out a single detail.”

A smirk tugged at Brian’s lips, and he moved his free hand to cover yours, taking hold of it and lifting it off his arm. But rather than setting your hand back on the table, in your own personal space, he held it. He delicately stroked his thumb over the back of your hand.

And, boy, did that make your stomach do somersaults.

“Going on those dates with those girls who were so completely wrong for me, where I felt so uncomfortable and uneasy, like I couldn’t be myself, and then immediately hanging out with you after each one – where things were completely the opposite – just made me realize that I wasn’t going to find someone who I wanted to spend time with more than I want to spend time with you.”

He paused, then, and you took another breath.

“But… they were bad dates,” you pointed out, though there was barely any strength to your voice at this point.

“I know,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t matter. I just… know.”

“...Know what?” you whispered.

“That I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re literally everything I could ever want in a partner and more, and… I’m in love with you.”

You simply stopped breathing then, and because of that, you lost the ability to say anything.

After a few moments of silence, Brian started to let go of your hand and said, “It’s okay if you don’t –”

This caused a flurry of panic inside of your chest, and you quickly took his hand back. “No, it’s not – Wait, hold on.”

Brian paused again and, thankfully, didn’t let go of your hand.

“Hold on,” you repeated, trying to give yourself some time to gather your thoughts. "I just need to – so, all of those… moments between us were not my imagination running away with me?”

“No, but I’m curious to hear what moments stood out to you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, conveying your irritation – Brian may be in love with you, but he was still as obnoxious as ever. 

“Well, you didn’t wake me up when I fell asleep on your shoulder, first of all. In fact, it seems like you purposely let me sleep instead of waking me up with your scene-by-scene commentary, plus the volume was lower, and the blanket, and –”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You may not have noticed that my movie choice had meaning, but at least you noticed all of that.”

“And you got my order right at that one place earlier this week, but I didn’t even tell you what I wanted,” you added.

Brian simply nodded, but then said, “I wanted you to see that I pay attention.”

“And… I don’t know, I’ve just been feeling this… tension. But not a bad tension, just…”

You trailed off, and Brian squeezed your hand.

“I think that tension, as you call it, is just my feelings for you.”

You nodded slowly, allowing his words – the ones he’d just said as well as everything else – settle over you.

You weren’t imagining things. Brian did, indeed, have feelings for you, and he’d been showing you.

But now that you no longer had to worry about that, you did have to worry about… whether or not you felt the same.

“I –” you began. “Bear with me, okay?”

Brian just squeezed your hand again.

“I don’t… know… how I feel about you. I mean, I know that I love you so much as a person, and I cherish your friendship so deeply. I just… don’t know… if it’s more than that. And I don’t mean that in a ‘I don’t think I can ever have more than friendly feelings for you’ way. I mean that I very well could also be… in love with you. I just haven’t realized it. I… I don’t know.”

“You very well could be in love with me?” he asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well – okay, for example,” you began. “Movie night. I texted you right when I left the restaurant, and I just assumed you would reply immediately. But you didn’t, and… that bothered me. I couldn’t stop thinking about why you weren’t texting me. And, actually, even before that! During my date with Emotionally Evolved guy, I kept thinking about you and if you’d been there and how your date was going and… and hoping you would text me. And then you put your jacket on me. And… and, also, I noticed the tension but wasn’t grossed out, and after I woke up and you said you should leave, I… I wanted you to stay.”

During this quasi-incoherent speech, your gaze had been focused mainly on the table or on Brian’s hand holding yours.

But now, you lifted your eyes to look at him – or, rather, to look back at him, since he was already gazing over at you.

“So… that all kind of sounds like I possibly could have feelings for you,” you admitted, your voice only now betraying how nervous you were.

“Possibly,” Brian agreed. “But I don’t want to rush you or pressure you. If you need some time, you can take as much as you need.”

Honestly, hearing those words lifted a pretty big weight off of your shoulders, and you actually let out a sigh of relief.

I mean, not that you thought Brian would give you an ultimatum or anything. He was obnoxious, but he wasn’t unreasonable.

Most of the time.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Brian squeezed your hand one last time before letting it go and reaching for the cheese plate.

Surprisingly, the rest of the dinner was incredibly normal. There was no awkwardness, no discomfort, no uneasy silence.

In fact, there may have actually been some flirting?

The idea of flirting with your best friend was still somewhat strange, though, so you couldn’t be sure.

Nonetheless, the food was exquisite, you limited yourself to a singular glass of wine, and… if you were being honest, you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather have sitting across the table from you.

When you thought about all of the excruciating dates you’d just been on in the last month, it made tonight seem like the best evening you could possibly imagine.

And then, before you knew it, Brian paid the check, and the two of you made your way out to the parking lot.

Now, this was new. You hadn’t made it this far on any of your bad dates, so you weren’t used to this part of the date. And the fact that you were with Brian?

Your heart began to beat out of your chest.

With the sun long gone and the sky bathed in deep evening blue, a chill had settled into the air, sharp enough to raise goosebumps across your skin. 

When you suddenly felt Brian’s hands brush your shoulders, you jumped, realizing your gaze had been glued to the ground – but then, when you actually looked up, you saw he was, yet again, putting his jacket over your shoulders, and a grin sprang to your lips.

The instinct to reach out and take his hand, linking your fingers together, tugged at you. It just felt… natural. 

But before you could give into that instinct, Brian murmured, “I’ll get the door for you,” and you discovered you’d already made it to his car.

That instinct was still tugging at you, though, but not necessarily to hold his hand. You just couldn’t figure out what.

And, to top it all off, you also still couldn’t figure out if you returned his feelings.

You kind of assumed that you did, but there hadn’t been any sort of lightbulb moment during dinner. And, for some reason, you needed a lightbulb moment.

So, you moved to stand in front of the car door handle, stopping Brian from opening it. You took a breath, and you turned to face him.

If a lightbulb moment wasn’t going to present itself, then you’d have to invite one on your own.

“Can you…” you began, finding your voice was shakier than you’d prefer. 

Were you nervous? Yes, of course. What you were about to ask would change everything. But you didn’t want it to be obvious that you were nervous.

Brian furrowed his brow, his gaze locked on yours.

Y/N, just say it.

“Can you kiss me?”

Brian’s head jerked back in surprise, just slightly, and his mouth fell open to form a small ‘O.’

“Can I –”

“Just to see,” you clarified hurriedly. “Y’know, if I… feel anything.”

He nodded slowly, and said, “Ah, I see.” But you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

As he took one step closer to you, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes, mentally preparing yourself to feel his lips on yours.

…

…

…Any second now.

…

…

You carefully peeked through one eye, seeing that he was still just standing there.

“Are you –”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I’m getting there. You’re not the only one who’s nervous here, y’know.”

“Okay, sorry.”

You closed your eye again.

“Thank you for your patience,” he murmured. He had, apparently, stepped even closer because you could feel his breath on your forehead.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered.

And then, you felt his fingers gently brushing against your cheek — so lightly and carefully, like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t pull away.

His palm curved around your cheek, and just after his thumb delicately pushed up under your chin to tilt your head… he kissed you.

His lips were soft against yours, wanting but not at all desperate, and it took you less than a second to decide that it was the sweetest yet most devastating kiss of your life so far.

…And also the most brief.

As slow as he’d been to initiate the kiss, he was just as quick to end it.

When he pulled back, you blinked at him.

“...Was it that bad?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“What? No,” he answered. “What do you mean?”

And you realized that your response was going to tell him everything he needed to know about your feelings – it would tell you everything you needed to know about your feelings.

“You ended it too soon.”

Unsurprisingly, one corner of Brian’s mouth tugged up into a half-grin, and he laughed softly.

“My apologies,” he chuckled before swiftly and smoothly capturing your lips in another kiss.

This time, you slid your arms around his middle, resting your hands on his back and gently clutching his shirt in your fingers. And, after a few moments, you even rose up onto your toes, giving him every indication that you were, indeed, kissing him back.

Really kissing him back, as if you’d been kissing each other for years.

And, honestly, maybe that was your lightbulb moment.

Not the kiss itself, not the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth blooming through your chest, or even the way your heart was now on a mission to beat itself right out of your body.

No, the lightbulb moment was just… how easy it felt. How natural.

There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty, no pressure to perform or impress or carefully calculate your every movement the way you had on every terrible date over the past month – or any date you’d ever been on in your whole adolescent and adult life, actually.

You weren’t wondering what Brian thought of you.

Because you already knew.

And you trusted it. You trusted him.

This realization settled somewhere deep inside you, so suddenly and so completely that it almost stole the breath from your lungs.

This wasn’t mentally or emotionally draining, and it wasn’t forced...

…It was Brian. Warm and familiar and safe in a way that felt almost life-altering now that you finally understood it.

When you finally pulled back, it was only far enough to look at him.

He tipped his forehead just enough, resting it lightly against yours. His hands were still steady against you, giving you every indication that he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

And honestly?

Good.

A soft laugh escaped you, breathless and disbelieving all at once.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I love you, too.”

You felt him smile before you kissed him again.

“Can you turn on the TV?” you called out from the kitchen as you put away the leftover pizza and prepared to recycle the boxes.

“You got it,” Brian replied, and you heard him let out a soft groan, presumably as he plopped down onto your couch.

After you slid the leftovers into your fridge and popped into your garage to stuff the boxes in the recycling bin, you rushed over to the kitchen sink to wash your hands.

“Do you want anything else?” you asked, drying your hands with a towel.

“No, just you, get in here!” Brian answered with a slight whine.

“All right, I’m coming,” you chuckled.

Once your hands were dry (enough), you shuffled out of the kitchen and into your living room, hurrying around the back of the couch.

Brian held out his arm for you, impatiently waggling his fingers to invite you next to him.

“Goodness,” you sighed as you settled in at his side, a grin curving your lips when you felt his arm curl around and behind you, his hand landing on your hip and patting it affectionately. “So clingy tonight.”

“Tonight?” he asked. He then leaned even more toward you, pressing his lips to your temple. “I’m always clingy.”

“Mm, true,” you murmured.

Ever since that night – your official first date at Rue Saint Claire and the kiss in the parking lot – you’d spent time with Brian every day, without fail. You had each extended open invitations to each other’s home, and while you had cashed in on yours more than a few times to go and listen to him practice his music, Brian had basically become your permanent houseguest (not that you were complaining).

He also took you out whenever you both had time – dinners, lunches, breakfasts, plays and musicals, walks in the park, concerts, used bookstore crawls, museums.

But you had to say, your favorite dates were those just like tonight – cozy movie nights at your place, just like old times.

Except now, of course, there was exponentially more cuddling and kissing involved.

Brian leaned back against the couch then, remote in hand as he scrolled through the options.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “I’m thinking Pride & Prejudice.”

But you had something else in mind, and you didn’t even hesitate to reply with, “No.”

Brian huffed out a quiet, bemused laugh. “Wow. Immediate rejection.”

“Well, I know what I want,” you stated. “Put on Northanger Abbey.”

At that, Brian turned his head to look at you properly, one eyebrow lifting in amusement.

“…Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you nodded.

“You’re choosing Northanger Abbey over Pride & Prejudice?”

“Absolutely.”

“You?” he asked dramatically, placing one hand against his chest. “You, who has watched the 2005 Pride & Prejudice enough times to qualify for residency at Pemberley?”

You snorted. “First of all, rude,” you replied, even though it was certainly true. “Second of all, this is different.”

“Oh?” Brian asked, clearly entertained now. “And how exactly is this different?”

You shrugged lightly, trying – and failing – to look unaffected and casual.

“...Well,” you began slowly, “I’m dating Henry Tilney now, so...”

The grin that spread across Brian’s face was immediate and helpless all at once.

“Oh, my god,” he laughed softly. “You’re still on this?”

“You’re the one who brought up Mr. Darcy in the first place,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, and you destroyed my argument in under thirty seconds.”

“Because I was right! I am right!”

Brian shook his head fondly before shifting closer, his arm tightening around your waist. “And you’re still standing by that?” he murmured.

“I am,” you replied easily. “You’re not brooding enough to be Darcy.”

“Wow.”

“You smile too much,” you continued.

“Wow.”

“You actually enjoy talking to people.”

“Okay, that one feels personal.”

You laughed quietly as he pressed another kiss to the side of your head.

“And besides,” you added more softly, curling a little closer into his side, “Henry Tilney was always my favorite, anyway.”

That earned you a moment of unusual silence.

Not awkward silence, just unusual since, as you just established, Brian typically enjoyed talking.

You titled your head up to see Brian looking at you with that same unbearably warm expression that still made your chest feel too full every time you caught it directed at you.

“…Yeah?” he asked quietly, searching your face as affection poured out of his gaze.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

His smile softened into something almost shy before he leaned down to kiss you – a kiss slow and familiar by now, yet still capable of making your heart trip over itself.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead briefly against yours.

“Well,” he murmured, voice warm with amusement, “good thing you ended up with him, then.”

You smiled, unable not to.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Good thing.”

Good luck! ❤️

...Okay, why did that actually make you feel better? Why did that give you enough emotional, mental, and physical energy to get out of your car and go into the restaurant?

I mean, yes, Brian was your friend. One of your closest friends, really.

Your best friend?

And his message was heartfelt. He'd even sent you a heart emoji!

So, yeah, it shouldn't be that surprising that a heartfelt message with a heart emoji made you feel better.

But... still.

Whatever, you wouldn't waste too much time overthinking it.

(Right now, at least).

You had a date to go on!

"What did you say you do again?" Cole asked, looking across the table at you with the most genuine expression of confusion.

An expression that would be cute on a very small child or, say, a dog.

But not a fully grown man with whom you were on a date.

You'd been absolutely right -- the guy was dumb and boring.

And since you'd already told him twice what you did for work, you decided to have some fun. It's not like this date was ever going to go anywhere, so why not?

"Actually, I'm a government spy," you said in hushed tones, leaning forward just a bit. "But if I tell you anything more, I'd have to kill you."

Cole -- bless his heart -- answered by nodding twice, then silently zipping his lips.

"And you," you prompted. "You said you're... taking a gap year? I thought that was only for University students?"

"Oh, no, anyone can take a gap year," Cole answered. "I was working a desk job, but I realized that's not what I want to do with my life."

"Ah, so you took a year off to figure things out?"

"Yeah..." Cole replied, though he sounded anything but certain. "I just felt like I needed time to focus on my goals."

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued. You had a feeling this was going to be good -- and by good, you meant bad.

"What goals?" you asked, doing your best to sound curious.

"Oh, just... y'know. Just, like, bettering myself."

You nodded slowly, as if you completely understood what he meant.

You didn't, of course.

"How?"

"What?"

"Bettering yourself how?" you asked with a somewhat strained smile.

"Oh, right. Just, like... in general."

You could only blink at him in response.

And, then, when he didn't say anything after a full minute, you finally squeaked out an "Oh!"

Thankfully, the server arrived with your food, and you hoped Cole would be too busy focusing on eating to continue the conversation. Or continue any conversation.

Alas.

As soon as he finished his first bite, he took a breath and asked, "So, like, what do you actually do."

Oh, here we go again.

"Didn't I just --"

"No, but what do you do as a -- y'know," he repeated.

...Are you kidding me?

He was asking you -- someone he thought was a government spy -- what you do?

Okay, it was time to see just how far you could take this.

"I train carrier pigeons for government surveillance," you deadpanned. "Among other things."

A half-smile tugged at Cole's lips, and he said, "Oh, that's sick."

My god.

You couldn't wait to tell Brian about this.

"It is," you agreed. "But enough about me. I can't say much more, anyway. Unless you have Top Secret level security clearance."

Cole's eyes widened a bit, and he shook his head. "That's a real thing?"

"Um... yes," you replied, finding that you sounded like a Preschool Teacher telling a toddler the answer to a very obvious question, but since they're a toddler, it's not obvious to them. Just to you because you're an adult.

But Cole was also an adult.

"Wow," he breathed.

"What do you do for fun?" you asked, hoping desperately he wouldn't ask about your life as a spy again.

Cole shifted around in his seat, and the look on his face morphed into one of disappointment -- yeah, he was going to ask about your life as a spy again.

"I like to hang out," he answered, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

"...Hang out?" you prompted. "Hang out... with friends? Where? Doing what?"

"Yeah, with my friends," he confirmed with a nod. "Just doing... stuff."

You sat there for a few moments, simply staring and blinking at him.

If he hadn't already answered questions in an almost identical manner, you would ask him if he was joking.

"Sounds fun," you finally replied, though your voice sounded falsely enthusiastic even to your own ears.

But, unsurprisingly, Cole didn't notice.

You began to wonder when you could cut this date short and make your escape without being too obvious.

Would Cole even notice if you were being too obvious, though?

I think we all know that the answer is No.

So, you let yourself enjoy your meal (because free food is free food), and you basically smiled and nodded at every dumb thing he said.

Then, as soon as you finished your last bite, you set your utensils down and said, "Well, I have to be going. I can't stay out too late, I have to... be up early for a mission."

Cole's eyes widened, and his gaze followed you as you stood from your chair and grabbed your bag.

"What kind of mission?" he asked.

You paused, narrowed your eyes at him, and said in hushed tones, "I've already said too much."

"Right, of course," Cole murmured. He began to stand up, presumably to walk you out or hug you good-bye, but...

Was there even any use pretending you were going to see him again?

So, before he could do either of those -- before he could even say anything -- you looked him in the eye and said, "If you speak about this to anyone, there's no telling what may happen to you."

And then you breezed past him and marched out of the restaurant.

Honestly, the second you stepped out into the parking lot, you felt like Nicole Kidman after getting divorced.

You were free! No more bad dates!

Actually, no more dates, period!

Unless you wanted to, of course. Unless you found someone you were interested in enough to date.

Obviously.

But for now, you were free!

No more podcasts! No more psyche deep dives! No more spy missions!

Honestly, you felt like skipping through the parking lot back to your car, but you settled for smiling like a goofball.

And, as after your other two dates, you got out your phone and sent a quick text to Brian as soon as you could.

I'm done with my last date 🥴

Once you sent it, you expected to get a reply just moments later, simply because that's what had occurred previously.

So when you didn't get a message back within a few seconds, you got your keys out and got into your car.

Still no reply.

You turned the engine over and buckled your seatbelt.

Still no reply.

You decided to just drive home because, honestly, you were beat. You needed some time to rot on your couch and not stress about these dates.

And to take your mind off of everything -- the dates and your best friend not texting you back, even though he had a perfectly valid reason to reply at a later time -- you turned your music up for your drive home. Singing power ballads at the top of your lungs was the perfect medicine for anything that ailed you, really.

Did that stop you from glancing at your notifications all the way home, though? Just to see if Brian had texted you back?

Shhh... we don't have to talk about that.

Because admitting that you were watching your phone like a hawk to catch Brian's reply meant that you'd have to admit that you wanted so desperately for Brian to reply to you. And admitting that meant... something else entirely that you couldn't quite put into words. Something you didn't want to put into words.

Brian was your friend, yes. Your best friend, as we touched on earlier. Of course, it was natural for you to want him to reply to your message. The two of you had met up after your other bad dates to debrief and spend time together, so you'd assumed you would do the same after this one, but had you actually made any concrete plans to do that?

Well, kind of. You'd brought it up at Spill the Beans a couple of weeks ago.

But still. You hadn't planned on exactly where and when to meet up before your dates tonight, so it didn't really matter.

(If it didn't really matter, why were you overthinking it so much?)

(Again -- shhh... we don't have to talk about that!)

You shook your head to get rid of all of these anxieties and focused on singing along to your music.

But since your date had been at a local restaurant, it only took about ten minutes to get home -- not nearly enough time to forget about how much space Brian and his non-reply were taking up in your mind.

Because seriously, why were you thinking about Brian so much?

You huffed out a sigh as you parked your car in your garage and headed into your house, dumping your bag on your kitchen counter, kicking off your shoes, and shuffling listlessly to your couch.

And you decidedly kept your phone in your pocket because who cares if Brian texted you back or not?

You cared, but you didn't want to, so you forced yourself not to.

...But then.

Just as you reached for the remote on your coffee table, you saw the flash of headlights on your wall, signaling someone had just pulled into your driveway.

And then you heard the sound of someone opening and closing a car door.

Before you had a chance to stand up and creep over to your front door so you could peek out of the window to see who it was, your front door opened.

You wanted to strangle your heart for how high it jumped up into your throat upon seeing Brian in your doorway.

"What --" you began.

"Before I come in and get settled, do you want me to go get anything?" he asked, leaving the door ajar in case he needed to leave again. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"No, I just ate," you answered quickly. "What are --"

Brian closed the door behind him, stepped out of his shoes, and made his way over to join you on the couch.

You were finally able to finish your question once he plopped down next to you.

"What are you doing here?"

He furrowed his brow, but instead of turning his head to look at you, he leaned forward to grab the remote.

"Our debrief?" he replied, holding the remote out for you.

"But you didn't text me back."

"I didn't?" he asked, the notch between his eyebrows getting deeper. And then he reached into his pocket, getting his phone out and tapping on the screen to navigate to your message thread. "Oh, shit, sorry."

He held his phone toward you, showing you that he'd typed out a reply but, apparently, hadn't actually pressed the button to send it to you.

He'd said Sorry, just got out of mine. I'll be over in a few mins.

And, sure enough, when you finally took your phone out of your own pocket, you saw he'd read your message just a minute or two before you got home.

You felt incredibly silly for worrying so much.

"How was your date?" he asked as he set his phone screen-down on your coffee table and slid it away from him.

After a brief pause, you did the same before answering him. "Well," you began with a sigh. "I told him that I'm a government spy with top secret security clearance, and he believed me."

Brian shook his head slightly, leaning closer to you. "Wait, you what?"

A grin tugged at your lips at the memory and in anticipation of telling Brian about just how dumb Cole had been.

"But that's not all," you added before launching into a synopsis of the whole conversation.

Brian, as you knew he would, reacted with nothing but shock, confusion, and disgust. Basically, everything you thought and felt as the conversation had been actually happening!

"I... I think I'm speechless," Brian said after you'd finished relaying every last word.

"What?!" you cried with a shocked chuckle. "You? Speechless?! I never thought I'd see the day."

"I know, me either," Brian replied. "I just... don't understand how someone could be that..."

Both of you said the word 'Dumb' at the exact same time.

"Same," you agreed. "But we were wrong."

"I really hate being proven wrong," he sighed.

"Me too."

You let out a sigh to match his before settling even further into the back of your couch. Then, after a beat or two of silence, you turned to look at him again. "What about yours?"

Brian glanced over at you, meeting your eyes for only a second or two before answering. "Ah, Sophie," he murmured. "It wasn't as bad as yours, but I'm definitely not admitting that you're probably going to win."

"Okay," you relented with an amused eye roll.

"She started off by asking a really deep, personal question, and when I pointed out that it was a deep, personal question, she said she 'doesn't do small talk.' Which, fine, okay. I get that."

"Wait, what was the question?" you asked.

You expected Brian to tell you immediately, but to your surprise, he hesitated.

"It was... I can't really remember exactly what it was, but it was about what I need in a relationship. Or, like, what I didn't realize I needed until I found it. Or... something."

Okay, yep, that's pretty personal.

And if this were any other person, you would let it go and allow them to move on with the story.

But... it was Brian, and he was your friend, and... there was a part of you that really, really wanted to know what he'd said.

"And?" you prompted.

Brian huffed out a quiet breath, leaning back against the couch as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I said…” he started, then paused again, as if he was trying to figure out how to word it. “I said I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to actually engage with me.”

You frowned slightly, listening.

“Like, not just listen, but… push back a little. Call me out when I’m being annoying,” he continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Keep up, I guess. Make things feel… easy. Comfortable.”

Your chest did something weird at that.

You ignored it because why would your chest do something weird at that? It made no sense; therefore, you decided it wasn’t worth acknowledging.

“And was she like that?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

Brian shook his head.

“No,” he said simply. “It just felt kind of… forced. Like we were both trying to say the right thing instead of just… talking.”

You hummed in understanding, nodding slowly.

“That’s the worst,” you agreed. “At least mine was entertainingly bad.”

“Yeah,” Brian snorted. “I can’t compete with government pigeon surveillance.”

“You really can’t,” you said. “That was peak performance on my part, I’m not going to lie.”

He laughed again, softer this time, and the conversation tapered off into a comfortable silence.

And that’s when you felt it — the exhaustion you’d been holding off all evening was finally settling in for real.

Your limbs felt heavier. Your head felt fuzzier.

So, you leaned back further into the couch, letting out a slow breath. “I think I’m officially done interacting with people for the day,” you muttered.

Brian glanced over at you. “That bad?”

“That exhausting,” you corrected.

There was just a beat of silence, and then –

“Movie?” Brian suggested.

You nodded immediately. “Yes. Please. Something easy. If I have to think, I’m out.”

“Got it,” he said, already reaching for the remote.

While he clicked through the movies, you reached behind you to grab a blanket. Without thinking much about it, you spread the blanket over both of your laps — I mean, the two of you were sitting closely enough to share one, so why not? It was a big blanket. And it was purely for warmth and comfort purposes. It's not like the two of you would be cuddling or anything.

...Why did you even think that? What was going on with you tonight? First, your chest did something inexplicably weird, and now your brain was thinking about cuddling?

You adjusted the edge of the blanket, smoothing it down over your knees like that would somehow make the strange goings-on less noticeable.

Brian glanced down at your laps briefly. “You’re really committing to that, huh?” he asked, and it was then you noticed you were still fiddling with the blanket. You quickly stopped before you answered him.

“It’s cold,” you explained. “And you were within range.”

“Within range,” he repeated.

“You should feel honored,” you added, settling back into the couch. “Not everyone gets access to the deluxe blanket experience.”

“Wow,” he deadpanned. “I didn’t realize this was exclusive.”

“It is. Don’t let it go to your head.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shifting slightly beside you — close enough that your knee brushed his under the blanket.

You didn’t move.

“Just don’t take it personally if I fall asleep,” you added after a moment. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” he smirked.

“You can still try to be entertaining, though,” you murmured. “Don’t hold yourself back on my account.”

“No promises.”

Thankfully, the sound of a movie starting gave you something else to focus on.

And thankfully, part two, what you saw on the television screen made you sigh with relief.

“When Harry Met Sally…,” you murmured with obvious approval. “I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”

“I know it’s not Jane Austen, but —”

“I don’t watch only Jane Austen adaptations, you know,” you scoffed.

“ I—” Brian reached underneath the blanket and poked you in the side. “Know.”

You let out a tired shriek and swatted his hand away.

“Assaulting me while I’m already weak,” you accused, your brow furrowed in consternation.

“Strategic timing,” he replied easily.

You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes just slightly to show your disapproval.

Then you shifted back against the couch, meaning to put a little space between the two of you —

But you didn’t.

Your leg was still pressed against his under the blanket, warm and unmoving.

“…If I do fall asleep, I’m blaming you for this,” you muttered.

“For what?”

“For making me feel too comfortable.”

The words slipped out before you could really think about them.

There was a beat.

Then Brian smiled, just a little.

“Yeah,” he said lightly. “That sounds like my fault. Because I’m the one who brought out the blanket, after all.”

You huffed, turning your attention back to the screen — but you still didn’t move away.

As the opening interviews and Harry Connick, Jr. song played, you really did try to pay attention to the movie.

You did, honestly.

But somewhere between the familiar dialogue and the steady warmth at your side, your focus started to slip.

Your eyes felt heavier.

Your thoughts became slower.

You shifted slightly, getting more comfortable, your shoulder brushing his — and then, somehow, it stayed there.

You barely registered it. You barely registered anything, really.

And at some point, your head tipped… and came to rest against his shoulder.

You had a very brief, very foggy moment of awareness.

I should move, you thought to yourself.

But you didn’t. You just couldn’t make yourself do it. You were too tired and too comfortable, both physically and mentally.

And Brian didn’t react, so you had to assume he didn’t mind.

And that was all you needed to allow yourself to drift asleep.

When you blinked your eyes open again, the room was dimmer than before.

The movie was still playing, but quieter than earlier — low enough that it barely filled the space of your living room.

For a second, you didn’t move.

Didn’t think.

And then—

Oh.

You were leaning against something.

Warm. Solid.

You straightened slowly, blinking as the realization settled in.

Brian.

You’d fallen asleep on Brian.

For… who knows how long?

You glanced over at him, half-expecting him to be asleep too, but he was already looking at you.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep. “Sorry — did I—”

You gestured vaguely toward his shoulder.

“You fell asleep,” he said simply.

You shifted, and that’s when you noticed —

The blanket had been pulled up higher around you. The volume on the TV had been turned down.

He’d… adjusted things to make you more comfortable, to allow you to sleep. The movie was already almost over, and he hadn’t woken you up with his commentary or questions.

You swallowed, suddenly a little more awake.

“I didn’t mean to,” you said.

“It’s fine,” Brian replied easily. “You warned me.”

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, rubbing a hand over your face.

“What did I miss?” you asked as you glanced back at the screen, even though you knew full well you had missed basically the whole movie.

“Pretty much all of it,” he chuckled. “You were out before they even made it to New York.”

“Rude,” you muttered.

“Eh, you’ve seen it before,” he pointed out, lifting one shoulder into a half-shrug.

“Still,” you said, though there was no real bite to it.

A small quiet settled between you.

But, somehow, it was a different kind of silence than before.

It was somehow… softer.

You shifted again, then, sitting up a little straighter now.

“I should probably —” you started, though you had no idea where you were going with this thought.

“Yeah,” Brian said, already leaning forward slightly. “I should head out.”

There was the faintest flicker of something in your chest at that.

And, just as you had earlier in the evening, you ignored it. Because it was, indeed, late, and that thing in your chest was slowly morphing into an unfamiliar yearning for him to stay the night.

So, you stood up and walked him to the door, arms loosely folded as you leaned against the doorframe.

You glanced at him then — but immediately paused.

Because he was already looking at you. Not like he was waiting for you to finish talking, and not like he was about to make a joke, but just… looking.

You held his gaze for a second too long before something in your chest flipped, sudden and unfamiliar.

Maybe you had to go to the doctor to get some sort of screening because, seriously, what was going on underneath your sternum tonight?!

“Thanks for staying,” you found yourself blurting out.

Brian’s expression shifted just slightly, as if he hadn’t been expecting you to say that – and, let’s be real, you felt the same way.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice softer than normal. “Of course.”

And you knew immediately that if you lingered any longer, things would get entirely too awkward for comfort. So, you took a step back and began to close the door, prompting Brian to bid his final goodbye before turning toward your driveway.

After he left, you stood there for a moment, staring at your closed front door.

Then, almost as if you were on autopilot, you turned and walked back toward your couch.

The movie credits were rolling quietly on the screen, soft music filling the room in a way that felt almost… intrusive, now that everything else was so still and the room was empty save for yourself.

The blanket was exactly where you’d left it.

Where he’d left it.

You didn’t think too hard about that as you sat down, pulling it back over your lap without much thought, tucking it around yourself like you hadn’t just been sharing it with your best friend only minutes ago.

The couch was still warm, but that was normal.

Or was it? Honestly, you weren’t really sure about anything at the moment.

You leaned back, staring at the TV without really seeing it, your mind catching up in slow, uneven pieces..

The movie.

Falling asleep.

Waking up on his shoulder.

The way he’d already been looking at you.

The way he’d turned the volume down.

The way he hadn’t made it weird.

The way he’d just… stayed.

Your fingers tightened slightly in the blanket, the feel of the soft, plush fabric somehow helping to ground you in reality.

That was…

You exhaled slowly, your thoughts finally starting to form into something coherent—

But then they immediately stalled out.

Because whatever word was sitting there didn’t feel like something you could just… think and move on from.

It felt heavier than that.

So instead —

“…Nice,” you said out loud, the word quiet but definite in the otherwise empty room.

You blinked, like you hadn’t expected to hear it.

Too nice.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line as you stared at the TV, your reflection faint in the darkened screen.

And you had to admit to yourself...

“…This might be a problem.”

The bartender came around, but you told him that you were waiting for someone, so you'd stick with a glass of water for now.

You then suddenly had a thought to get a second glass of water for your date, Theo, but the bartender had already turned to leave before you could say anything.

And, of course, that's exactly when Theo arrived and slid onto the stool next to you.

"Hey," he greeted you with a lazy smile. "Glad you made it. Found the place okay?"

His sudden appearance startled you a bit, but you pasted a smile on your lips and nodded. "I did," you assured him. "This is a really nice place, I've never heard of it before."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked as he wordlessly lifted one hand to flag down the bartender. "I come here a lot. The vibes are immaculate."

You chose to think he came here a lot with friends -- actually, scratch that. You wanted the date to be bad! So, you chose to believe he either came here a lot by himself or with other dates. Either of those was kind of a red flag, right?

Not that there's anything wrong with going somewhere alone, of course. You loved being alone! But going to a jazz bar alone? And going frequently?

You get what I'm saying, right?

"Indeed," you answered with a slow nod.

The bartender came over, setting your water down in front of you and taking Theo's order -- a Moscow Mule.

Then, Theo turned to you expectantly, obviously waiting for you to place your order.

You hadn't planned on drinking much, if at all, tonight, simply because you had to drive home. But two sets of eyes on you -- strangers' eyes -- caused you to panic, and you blurted out, "Just a hard cider, please."

The bartender nodded, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Theo angled himself toward you and said, "Hard cider? Interesting."

"Is it?" you asked, furrowing your brow slightly.

Theo shifted a little in his chair, but you somehow got the feeling it wasn't in an uncomfortable way.

"I just think you can tell a lot about a person by what drink they order," he explained. "I used to come here with my ex, and she would always get a glass of wine -- classic but classy, y'know?"

Oh, good! You were wondering when the flags were going to turn fully red! Bringing up your ex within the first ten minutes of a date -- perfect!

"Yes, absolutely," you agreed. "What do you think it says about you that you ordered a Moscow Mule?"

Obviously, you didn't care at all about his answer, but the look on his face after you asked that -- the twinkle that lit up his eyes... This was definitely going to be something you told Brian about later.

Speaking of Brian, you knew he would've ordered a cider with you. The two of you didn't go out to bars that much (or ever?), but you'd both been known to enjoy a fruity cider at an upscale burger restaurant.

Speaking of Brian, pt. 2, he was also on a date right now -- one reason why you'd scheduled your date with Theo for this exact time slot. You wondered how it was going for him so far? If it wasn't rude, and if you weren't going to hear all about it directly from the source later, you would pull out your phone and discreetly send him a text.

It was then that you suddenly realized you had gotten lost in your thoughts, and you had totally missed how Theo had answered your question.

...Oops.

But you were able to get away with smiling and nodding easily enough.

Another red flag.

"My ex kind of ruined dating for me, though," Theo said -- now that caught your attention.

Because how on Earth did he go from analyzing drink orders to that?

"Oh?" you asked before reaching for your glass and taking a sip of your water.

"She had a lot of unresolved trauma, right? So, as time went on, I basically just became her therapist. Now, I'm definitely a lot more emotionally evolved than most people, so I get it. But your partner shouldn't take on all of that baggage for you, y'know?"

Actually, you completely disagreed. In your opinion, a good partner was someone who would help you to face your trauma and deal with it -- even force you to, if necessary.

But, Theo had said something else that you knew would make the conversation even better (but, really, worse).

"Right," you nodded. "Can you tell me more about your emotional evolution, though? I'd love to hear your thoughts on that."

Gag!

"Oh, absolutely," he grinned.

The waiter came then, sliding Theo's copper mug to him and popping the top off of your cider.

You, of course, quietly thanked him and noticed that Theo didn't even acknowledge him.

As Theo began to answer your question (in great detail, of course), you found your focus slipping. Your eyes kept darting to your phone, and it took you a minute or two to realize that you were hoping you'd see a text notification from Brian.

"Because my dad and I don't talk anymore."

For some reason, your brain decided to tune back into Theo at that moment. You raised your eyebrows in slight shock and said, "Oh --"

But Theo interrupted you quickly.

"Nah, it's whatever. I've processed it. It was a big step in my journey."

Somehow... you had a feeling he hadn't actually processed it.

Instead of disputing his claim, however, you found yourself replying with, "Wow, that must have taken a lot of courage and strength."

And, unsurprisingly, it turns out that was the exact right thing to say, because Theo then went off on another lengthy explanation of soul-searching and meditation and alternatives to therapy (...why not just get therapy?) and blah blah blah...

By the time you had finished your cider -- many, many, many minutes later -- you had fully stopped paying attention.

And Theo hadn't even seemed to notice.

Just after the bartender came to take your empty bottle away, though, Theo's words pulled your focus right back to him: "You seem pretty guarded, actually."

Oh? He was finally done talking about himself now?

"I do?' you asked, trying to keep the irritation out of your tone.

Theo shifted on his stool, leaning closer to you. You had to stop yourself from leaning away.

"Yeah, but -- not really in a bad way," he clarified. "Just... I can tell you've been through some stuff."

...Okay?

"Haven't we all?" you asked blithely.

A smirk tugged at Theo's lips. "I think you'd benefit from doing some real deep dives into your psyche. I'd be more than happy to help you along your journey."

Of course he would.

"That sounds great," you said with a nod. "I'm actually going to use the restroom real quick, I'll be right back."

Before he could say anything, you slid your phone in your pocket, took your purse, and bolted.

You would not be right back.

You would not, in fact, even try to pretend like you were going to the bathroom. You simply headed straight for the door, and as soon as you got outside, you took your phone back out and sent a text to Brian.

Remind me why we're doing this again.

And then immediately another:

No, actually, please don't remind me. I just need, like, a huge hamburger or something.

Since Brian was also on his date, you didn't expect him to answer until after you arrived back at your house.

But before you even got to your car, he had sent a reply.

Are you near Jay's?

Honestly, even if I wasn't, a Jay's hamburger and a walk through that gorgeous park right across the street from it is exactly what I need that I would drive three hours to get there.

I can be there in 20.

Whoever gets there first has to order.

And whoever gets there last has to pay.

WHAT? How is that fair?

But, of course, Brian didn't answer you.

By now, you were already in your car with the engine on, so rather than wait any longer to see if he was going to say anything, you simply booked it out of the jazz club parking lot and toward one of your favorite hamburger spots in town.

You'd spotted Brian's car before you even pulled into Jay's parking lot, but honestly, you were totally fine with paying for dinner. You hadn't paid for your drink on your date, and you assumed Brian had just paid for whatever date he'd been on. Plus, he had paid for your coffee at Spill the Beans after your last date -- it was only fair that it was your turn.

Actually, it felt more than fair because, as soon as you walked in, navigated to the table Brian had procured for you, and slid into the booth, the server arrived with two burgers, two fries, and two chocolate milkshakes.

For timing that perfect, you would happily pay for dinner. And more!

"I went first last time," you said in lieu of a greeting. "So, you can go first this time. What happened on your date? How bad was it?"

Brian let out a sigh before picking up a french fry and studying it.

You raised your eyebrows at him while simultaneously shoving your burger into your mouth.

"I don't know that I can even say it was bad," he began. "On paper, we were really compatible."

For some reason, his words made you pause your chewing.

"Like, I told her about our book club, and she thought it was really neat and that she's been wanting to get more into reading. And I told her about how I used to do music stuff, and that I'm starting to pick it back up again --"

"Wait, you are?" you interrupted.

When the two of you had met at University, Brian had been very heavily into music -- he'd played the bass guitar, written songs, and had even been in a local band. But adulthood had taken over, eventually, and he'd slowly given it up.

"Yeah," he replied with a shrug, as if it wasn't that big of a deal. "But anyway, she just said how she also loved music, and... that was it. She just wouldn't ask any follow-up questions, even though she expressed interest in everything I brought up."

"Okay, I promise we can pick this back up, but what do you mean you're starting to pick it back up again! When did this happen? Why? What's going on? I need to know everything!" you exclaimed, your brow deeply furrowed.

"I'll tell you later!" Brian rebutted. "But that's really it about my date. She was just so surface-level."

You narrowed your eyes slightly at him, sighing softly before moving on. "Even on a first date, there's gotta be something that even hints at forming a connection."

"Exactly."

"The person has to be at least interested in forming a connection."

"Exactly!"

"How does she expect to enter into a relationship without getting to know the person beyond their hobbies?"

"Yes!" Brian chuckled. "Exactly!"

You opened your mouth to continue your train of thought... but then another train hit you at full-force, and you frowned over at Brian.

"If we know what it takes to be a good date and enter into a relationship... why are we still single?"

Brian's chuckle evolved into a full laugh, and he shook his head as he dipped some fries into his milkshake. "Let's not even go there. What about your date?"

You shook your head slightly, ridding yourself of those why are we still single? thoughts before answering him.

"Theo," you sighed. "Oh, Theo. He was emotionally evolved, according to him."

"Oh, brother," Brian replied, rolling his eyes.

"Yep. I stopped paying attention after a while, but he did also tell me that I'm guarded and have things to work through, but he can totally help me do a deep dive into my psyche."

"A what?"

"That's when I said I had to go to the bathroom and just left."

"So, we basically had the opposite problem on our dates tonight," Brian pointed out. "Mine didn't want to dip even one single centimeter below the surface, but yours wanted to go all the way down to the bottom of the ocean."

"Yeah, that sums it up!" you agreed with a bemused chuckle.

Brian shook his head gently, letting the comfortable silence settle over you for a few moments -- but only a few.

"How's your burger?" he asked.

Wonderful -- if he was going to change the topic, then so would you!

"It's exactly the same as yours," you replied quickly. "Now what's this about your music?"

"There's really not much to tell," he assured you. "I just found my bass when I was cleaning out one of my closets and felt the pull to start playing again."

"Just playing? Not writing?"

"Maybe writing... if the inspiration hits."

A grin curved your lips, and you gently knocked his foot with your own underneath the table. "That's so exciting, I'm so happy for you. I want to hear you play! It's been so long!"

Brian's smile matched yours, and -- believe it or not -- his cheeks turned a very soft shade of pink. "I'm going to have to practice a lot if I want to get anywhere near as good as I was back then. I doubt I have the time."

"Oh, please," you scoffed. "First of all, it wasn't that long ago."

Yes, it actually was, but you weren't going to admit that.

"Second of all, if I'm remembering correctly, you were -- are -- one of those annoying people who is naturally talented when it comes to music. I'm sure it'll be like riding a bike."

For the next quarter of an hour or so, Brian continued to downplay his musical talents and try to change the subject -- which was very unlike him.

After you'd both finished your meal, and after you'd paid and tipped the server, you headed out to the aforementioned park across the street.

"Brian," you stated, hugging your cardigan closer as the slight chill in the air hit you. "I'm not that girl you just went on a date with. I want to know more, why are you being so dismissive about this? I've heard you play so many times, I know how good you are!"

"I'm not trying to be dismissive," Brian sighed. "I just... I don't know."

You glanced over at him as the two of you began a leisurely stroll through the park, your brow furrowed in disbelief. "You don't know something? Actually admitting that you don't know?"

Even though you'd just begun your stroll, you suddenly stopped and turned to face him.

"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with the Brian I know and love?"

The look that flashed across Brian's features made your stomach jump up into your throat. He very quickly fixed it, but you'd definitely caught how startled and uneasy he'd looked.

"As a friend," you amended, doing your best to keep your tone light and casual.

"I'm fine," he assured you. "I'm just feeling a lot, and I don't quite know how to categorize anything yet."

As he spoke, he began taking his jacket off, and you wondered how he could be warm enough not to keep wearing it. It wasn't exactly cold, but it was certainly cool enough to need long sleeves.

But then, he stepped up just a bit closer to you and reached out toward your shoulders, settling his jacket around them.

"Okay," you murmured, feeling your heart beating wildly as he adjusted the jacket's collar at your throat. "That -- that's fine. But... if you ever want to do a deep dive into your psyche, I know a guy."

Brian -- as you hoped he would -- burst out laughing, and a grin sprang to your lips.

You began walking again, and as you slid your arms through the jacket sleeves, Brian changed the subject, his voice still filled with amusement from your joke.

"How far have you gotten into the book?" he asked.

Obviously, by 'the book,' you knew he meant Pride & Prejudice, the book for the upcoming club meeting.

"Mr. Darcy has proposed -- the first time, obviously -- and Lizzy has just read the letter he wrote after she rejected him."

"I always thought it was pretty bold of him to do that," Brian stated.

"Really?" you asked with a frown.

"Yeah, I mean, can you imagine if a guy did that today? If he asked you out, you said 'no' because he sucks, and then he sends you, like, a text or an email telling you why you're wrong and that he doesn't suck?"

"He's not doing that," you disagreed. "He's explaining things -- things that Lizzy brought up but is misinformed about. He's not telling her she's wrong, he's just sharing his side of things. That's absolutely something you would do!"

Brian's face lit up, and he took a breath to say something --

"But you are not Mr. Darcy. You're Tilney through and through, and I will die on that hill," you interjected.

As your stroll continued, the two of you carried on your discussion of Mr. Darcy's letter, Pride & Prejudice, Brian's identity as Tilney and not Darcy, the book club, and eventually, a discussion about life, in general. You stayed in the park until well after sunset, until Brian finally forced an end to the conversation and ordered you (in the most friendly way possible, of course) to go home -- probably because you kept yawning while he was talking.

Was it strange to think that you were grateful for these bad dates, simply because they had led you to spending some incredible quality time with Brian?

20 Minutes Later

"I'm an empath -- have you ever heard of that? It's when someone can feel other people's feelings so keenly that it's as if that person is feeling the same things himself. I'm an empath, which is honestly kind of a curse, but it also means I'm really emotionally intelligent and available, and women say they want that --"

"We do," you interrupted.

You weren't even half an hour into this date, and you were already comfortable with interrupting him. And, truly, this guy -- Evan -- desperately needed to be interrupted.

Not that it did much good.

"But as we can see, I'm still on the dating apps looking for someone. So, I think we can both agree that women don't really know what they want."

"I do," you rebutted.

He smiled at you as if to say Right, of course you do in the most patronizing, condescending way.

"Then you should really give my podcast a listen," he said with a nod. "I promise, even just the first episode, you'll learn so much."

Highly doubtful.

"What's it called again?" you asked placatingly.

"Nice Guys Finish Last," he answered.

Raising your eyebrows, you lifted your water glass and sipped at the last dregs of half-melted ice just so you'd have something to do.

Usually, you weren't comfortable with conflict. In just about every aspect of your life, you avoided it as much as you possibly could.

So, when you put down your glass and the words, "Isn't that a bit negative for a title?" came out of your mouth, you immediately wanted to blame Brian.

He was your most argumentative friend, by far -- in fact, the most argumentative person you'd ever met -- but somehow, his unfailing need to debate anything and everything never made you uncomfortable. It irritated you, most definitely, but... some secret part of you had always wanted to be more like that. More combative, more apt to play Devil's Advocate.

And now you were.

Brian was absolutely to blame.

"Negative?" Evan questioned with a frown. "No, absolutely not. Why do you say that?"

...Really?

Okay, you had two choices: let it go or instigate.

If you let it go, then there was a much smaller chance you wouldn't get more annoyed than you already were.

If you instigated... then there was a much better chance this date would win you the bet.

"Well, the term 'nice guy' has become synonymous with an Incel Neckbeard who thinks he's nice but, in actuality, he holds women to the highest, most impossible standards and, at the same time, in the absolute lowest regard. And, yeah, obviously, someone like that will finish last because, with that brand of thinking, he believes he's entitled to a woman's time, love, and body simply because he's attracted to her and is maybe willing to buy her dinner. No woman who has any respect for herself would choose to be with someone like that."

...God, that felt good.

But instead of leaving Evan speechless like you'd hoped, he very quickly responded by scoffing, shaking his head, and saying, "No, you've got it all wrong. That's not at all what it means, and that's especially not what my podcast is about."

Yet again, you found yourself at a crossroads. If you continued to instigate, this could turn into a full-on debate at the dinner table. But since the goal was to have a bad date -- not a debate that would most certainly end with you storming out of the restaurant in a matter of minutes -- that didn't seem like the best choice.

So, you did something you swore you'd never do for a man (but, again, since this wasn't actually a real date, it didn't count) -- you played dumb.

"Oh? Then, please, enlighten me. I'm all ears."

And he spent the next ten minutes doing just that.

Hey, if I tell you about the date I just went on, would that exclude it from counting toward the bet?

Absolutely not, because I also just went on a date, and I don't think I can not tell you about it.

THANK GOD. How close are you to Spill the Beans?

Not far. I can be there in 10.

Perf. Meet you there.

You'd barely been able to make it out to your car before texting Brian -- the date had been that bad. And, honestly, the thought of a debrief with Brian afterward had been basically the only thing to get you through the evening.

Well, that, plus a hot decaf latte from your favorite local coffee shop.

Really, you couldn't believe your luck. Not only had Brian also been on a bad date, but he wasn't too far to meet you. What were the odds?

Before you pulled out of your parking spot, you pulled up your Girl Power playlist -- the one you'd crafted of only female artists -- and turned your volume up a few more notches than usual.

After the conversation you just had, you needed to belt out some female empowerment tunes.

Sadly, the drive to Spill the Beans was so short that you'd only been able to listen to two songs all the way through -- hardly enough to get your adrenaline pumping. But could you really complain? Getting a sweet, hot beverage and actually spilling the beans about your terrible date to one of your best friends was far more important and rewarding, and that's exactly what you were here to do!

Within just a few minutes after parking outside of the coffee shop, you'd stepped up to the register and greeted the employee working the counter (whose nametag read 'Imani') with a smile.

Right as you were opening your mouth to order your decaf vanilla latte, you felt someone appear right behind and beside you, their hand familiarly taking hold of your elbow.

Before you even had a chance to turn and see who it was -- or rather, confirm that it was who you thought it was -- you heard "Decaf vanilla latte and decaf Americano, both hot, and for here, please," in Brian's voice.

"Sure thing," Imani replied as she typed in the order. "Anything from the bakery?"

"Cinnamon bun, please," you answered without hesitation.

"Make that two," Brian added.

"Two cinnamon buns, coming right up." Imani handed you a numbered sign to put on your table. Then, when she announced the total of your order, Brian handed his card to her without giving you a sliver of a chance to offer to pay for it.

"Thanks," you murmured as the two of you turned away from the register and started walking toward an empty table in the corner. "You didn't have to, though. Weren't you just on a date? I'm sure you had to pay for dinner."

"Oh, boy, did I," Brian chuckled. "She made sure that I did, don't you worry about that."

"Good grief," you sighed. "Sounds like your story will be just as entertaining as mine!"

Brian let out a soft groan as he sat down, and once you set the number on the table and took your seat across from him, he lifted his eyebrows and said, "I'm happy to go first, but I'm also happy to listen to you first."

"Okay, wait, before we get started: we're making a promise right here and now that everything we share with each other tonight will be exactly what we share with the book club at the end of the bet. No more, no less, no differences," you stated, reaching your hand across the table so the two of you could shake on it.

But, unsurprisingly, Brian scoffed instead of shaking your hand. "What?!" he cried. "You think I would lie just to win?"

"...Yes, absolutely," you answered, brow furrowed. You were confused as to why he'd even ask. He definitely knew you would think that! Or, at least, he should have known.

"I would not!" he cried, clearly offended.

"Oh, please," you retorted, pursing your lips. "Maybe you wouldn't lie, but you would definitely exaggerate."

Brian simply frowned at you, but you didn't budge; you kept your hand outstretched, waiting for him to confirm his promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

After a few moments (moments that were somewhat awkwardly silent, if you were being honest), Brian leaned forward and said, "I'm going to shake your hand, but I want you to know that I'm not shaking your head because I'm admitting that you're right. I'm shaking your hand because it's not worth arguing about right now."

And he did just that: he reached over across the table and shook your hand once, firmly.

"All right, go ahead," he said in somewhat clipped tones as he settled back into his chair.

...Had you actually hurt his feelings? Why had he said it's not worth arguing about right now, and why was he being so short, and why was he barely looking at you?

This was new. In all of your years of friendship with Brian, you couldn't remember a time when you'd truly offended him. You'd teased him relentlessly and countless times, and he'd always either given it right back to you or agreed with you.

"Tell me about your date," Brian prompted, making you realize you may have been too lost in your thoughts about this.

"Right, sorry," you murmured, shaking your head slightly to get out of your head and back into the coffee shop.

"Well," you began. "He has a podcast."

"Oh, lord," Brian replied, rolling his eyes heavily.

"Exactly."

As you continued to explain everything that had happened and everything your date had said -- with a short break when your beverages and cinnamon rolls were delivered to your table -- you saw Brian gradually visibly relaxing.

Thank goodness, because you really hadn't known what to do with his brusque behavior. You couldn't stress enough how foreign his words and actions had been, and you hadn't been at all prepared for it. So, to say you were relieved that he now seemed like the Brian you knew was an understatement.

In the back of your head, you also wondered why the whole thing had affected you to this degree.

But... that wasn't something you needed to think about! Now or... ever.

"No!" Brian cried, brow furrowed. "You did not play dumb! Why?!"

"At that point in the date, I knew it wasn't worth it to debate with him," you explained. "It was bad enough! I didn't need to make it worse by causing a scene and arguing with him."

Brian sighed, lifting his mug and taking a sip before saying, "Yeah, I get that. But I'm sorry you had to experience it."

"Nah," you shrugged. "I wanted to go on a bad date, and a bad date it was, indeed."

But Brian spoke before you could laugh it off. "No, it's not fair that you had to play dumb," he stated, shaking his head. "It's not fair that women, in general, have to play dumb just so they won't start arguments with men and fear for their safety. It actually --"

He cut himself off, his forehead so deeply creased that it... well, to be honest, it surprised you.

You weren't sure why it surprised you, because Brian had been a pretty outspoken Feminist for as long as you'd known him. He'd always supported and encouraged you; he'd just never been this... angry about it.

"Hey," you interjected, keeping your voice low and calm. "It's all right. I didn't do it because I feared for my safety, though that does happen all the time. But that's not something we can solve right now, here in this coffee shop, so let's table that for the time being, huh?"

Brian shot you a glance -- one that clearly said he was sorry -- and simply nodded. "Now it's your turn," you reminded him. "What happened on your date?"

As if to calm himself down, take some time to breathe, Brian took a bite of his cinnamon roll before launching into the retelling of his own experience that evening.

Honestly, his date sounded pretty similar to yours: she talked at him rather than having an actual conversation, she was dismissive of his interests, and -- maybe worst of all -- she didn't read.

"No, but wait," you gasped. "I just saw something that said the average person reads, like, four or five books a year. Meaning as many as half of all people don't even read that many, if any at all!"

"And she was in that half, apparently!" Brian replied. "Then, when the check came, all she said was our server was great, make sure you leave them a nice tip, and then went to the bathroom."

"Wow," you chuckled. "Honestly, we're going to need the book club, because I can't pick which one is worse."

Brian opened his mouth to -- you assumed -- agree with you, but then he quickly shut it and took a sip of his drink instead.

"...What?" you asked suspiciously. It certainly wasn't like Brian to not say something.

"Nothing, I -- Well, I was just going to state my opinion, but the bet's only just begun. I should probably hold my thoughts until the end, don't you think?"

As much as you wanted to know what he was thinking... you had to agree with him.

"Sounds fair to me," you nodded. "Because who's to say these first two dates will be our worst, right?"

Although the idea of going on a date worse than tonight's made you shiver.

Yikes.

"Exactly. But I do think we should meet after each date to debrief," Brian suggested. "Here, my place, your place, wherever we can. I want to hear all of the details, and I want to share everything in return."

A smile sprang to your lips, and you lifted your mug up in a friendly cheers.

"Agreed," you nodded before taking a drink.

Satisfied, you whirled around on your heel and led Brian back into your kitchen. Your stomach had started grumbling about ten minutes ago when Brian had texted you that he and, most importantly, the pizza were on their way.

After setting the boxes down on your kitchen counter, the two of you opened them and piled up your plates in companionable silence -- though you knew that wouldn't last long. Brian was, as the cool people said these days, a yapper. If he wasn't talking, that only meant he was actively thinking of the next conversation.

Lo and behold, as soon as you both plopped down onto your couch, Brian didn't even wait for you to lean over and grab the remote before saying, "All right, since we're not talking about anything fun --"

"What!" you scoffed.

"What are we watching?" he asked, ignoring you completely and lifting a slice of pizza from his plate to begin eating.

Somehow, you managed to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Well, I figured since the next book we're reading is Pride & Prejudice, we should watch the movie to prepare."

"Right, sure, of course," Brian replied, his smirk apparent in his tone of voice. "It's not at all because you just love this movie and watch it almost every week."

"Exactly," you grinned, successfully holding back a mischievous giggle. You then gently tossed the remote to him before springing up out of your seat. "Totally forgot the drinks. What do you want?"

"Whatever's fine," he replied after you. "Soda, if you have it. But not diet!"

This time, you did roll your eyes -- a regular occurrence around Brian, if you hadn't picked up on that yet.

But, being the incredible friend you were, you kept cans of regular, full-sugar soda on hand just for him.

I mean, or for any other guest you might have who preferred regular, full-sugar soda. Not just Brian. He wasn't your only friend, certainly, and he wasn't the only friend who came over to your home.

Anyway.

After procuring two cans -- one diet, one regular -- you shuffled back into your living room, handed Brian his drink, and once again took your place on the couch.

"Just in time," Brian murmured before pulling the tab of his soda can and cracking it open with a fizzy hiss.

As the gentle sound of birds twittering and the soft piano music of the first scene in the movie filled the room (after the fizzy hiss), you briefly closed your eyes in pure elation. "Ugh, this movie has one of the most beautiful openings of all time," you stated with a whine. And as soon as Keira Knightley popped up on the screen, you said, "And did you know that she's reading --"

"Pride & Prejudice, yes, I know," Brian finished. "I have watched this movie with you before, y'know."

"I know --"

"Many times."

"I know --"

"And I do pay attention!"

"I know!"

"Hush, I can't hear," Brian scolded, reaching over and attempting to zip your lips.

You, of course, responded by elbowing him (gently, so as not to knock any of his drink onto your couch), and he immediately moved his arm back.

This kind of interaction was very typical for your movie nights with Brian.

Heck, it was typical for your entire friendship with Brian. From the moment the two of you had met in one of your classes at University, you'd had a relationship -- friendship -- based on good-natured bantering and teasing.

And, honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey," Brian said suddenly, causing you to jump slightly. You'd been so engrossed in the movie and had (almost) forgotten he was sitting right next to you. "Don't you think I'm like Mr. Darcy?"

You immediately furrowed your eyebrows, frowned, and turned to look at him.

"...I'm sorry?"

"Don't you think me and Mr. Darcy are similar?" Brian asked, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips -- and this made you think he was just joking.

"Oh, sure," you replied sarcastically. "Definitely. So similar I sometimes can't tell the two of you apart."

"No, I'm serious!"

His rebuttal made your head rear back in shock, and your confusion only grew.

"Bri -- what?! You think -- Mr. Darcy?"

And when Brian replied with a nod, you simply let out a single Ha!

"What do you mean ha?!" he cried, clearly offended.

"You're not like Mr. Darcy at all!" you pointed out, and you truly couldn't believe that you had to point that out to him.

Brian pursed his lips in disagreement, leaned back against the arm of the couch to turn and face you better, and requested, "Enlighten me, please."

"Mr. Darcy is shy and quiet and socially awkward and a snob. He is both proud and prejudiced, but he's completely unaware about it. You, on the other hand, are exactly..." You lifted one hand and acted as if you were counting out something with your fingers. "None of those things!"

Of course, you anticipated that your spot-on explanation would render Brian speechless -- if only for a short while.

Alas.

"But he's also handsome, generous, wildly smart, loyal --" he countered.

"There's absolutely no way you could be Mr. Darcy, even though both of you may share those qualities," you interrupted. "No, you're -- oh, I know, you're Henry Tilney. From Northanger Abbey."

Now this did render him speechless -- if only for a short while.

"...Okay?" he questioned, his tone one of great uncertainty.

"No, listen, you're absolutely Henry Tilney. He's outgoing and friendly," you began, feeling your heart begin to beat a little bit faster in excitement. "He's witty, charming, sarcastic, plus all of the things you said about Mr. Darcy. Generous, smart, loyal."

"Don't forget handsome."

"I think it's safe to assume that all romantic leads can be considered handsome," you replied with a quick eye roll.

"I mean, not necessarily," Brian smirked. "Beauty standards were pretty different back then."

Rather than give into Brian's goading and start a friendly, low-stakes argument, you simply replied with, "You're Mr. Tilney, and that's the end of it."

Before he could retort or try to continue the friendly, low-stakes argument he had wanted so badly to start, you grabbed the remote, turned up the volume, and pushed back even further into the couch cushion.

Being the wildly smart person he was, Brian chuckled softly and murmured, "All right, Henry Tilney, it is," before following your lead and focusing back on the movie.

"How did Jane do it?" you asked as soon as the credits began to roll.

Brian stretched his arms up into the air, letting out a soft groan. "Do what? Write the best love story of all time?"

"Well, yes, but how did she write five other novels that are also considered to be among the best stories of all time?"

"Because..." Brian began, a smirk slowly curving his lips. "She was an incredibly talented writer."

You rolled your eyes and reached over to swat his shoulder. "Yes, but -- it doesn't throw you into an existential crisis thinking about how these novels were written over 200 years ago, and yet, they're still wildly popular across the globe? All of them! And even the ones she didn't finish get made into movies and TV series!"

Brian didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned over to reach for your remote, turned off the movie and your TV, then leaned back against the couch once more.

Then, he turned his head to look at you and said with a chuckle, "No."

But before you could let out an irritated huff and said, 'Okay, fine, you can leave now, goodbye,' Brian continued speaking.

"It doesn't throw me into an existential crisis, I just think it's amazing. It fills me with... awe and wonder. And I think about how Jane's mind would be blown if she could see how popular she still is, even 250 years later. And that just makes me... happy."

You blinked at him for a moment, and then said simply, "...Oh."

"Why does it throw you into an existential crisis?" he asked with a bemused grin.

"I don't know!" you replied with a laugh. "I guess it makes me think about time and how quickly it passes, and it also makes me sad that she never got to see how beloved her novels became, and that her house is a museum, and they celebrate her birthday, and people around the world travel to see Mr. Darcy's house and watch the movie on the lawn every year. I just... I wish she could know how much her writing means to so many people."

"Ah," Brian murmured softly, glancing down at his lap. "That kind of existential crisis."

You simply nodded in return, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, and you were beginning to go down another existential crisis rabbit hole about finding a significant other you could talk like this to -- someone who would actually listen and maybe even understand you -- but, thankfully, Brian stood up and interrupted your thoughts.

"Need a hug?" he asked.

Without letting yourself think twice, you stood up, as well. You nodded. And when Brian held his arms out, you took a few steps toward him and leaned into his embrace.

"There, there," he murmured as he gently patted your back. "It's all gonna be okay. Jane's not here, but she still knows."

You hummed in reply, closing your eyes tightly as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

"Y'know, usually when you're spiraling, I would suggest watching a Jane Austen movie, but... I don't think that would work this time," he said with a soft chuckle.

"No," you agreed, lifting your head to let him see you were smiling -- just barely, but still smiling.

"How about another slice of pizza this time?" he asked, reaching up to delicately tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Actually... that sounds delicious." But before he could pull away and head toward your kitchen, you asked a question that was nibbling at your brain -- one that you knew only Brian wouldn't get mad at you for. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"What do you mean?!" he scoffed. "I'm your friend, aren't I always nice?"

"No," you answered without hesitation. "You're annoying. Need I remind you that you made me lead book club without telling or reminding --"

"Okay, I get it, I know. I'm trying a thing where I actually validate people's feelings -- or at least, the people I care about. But if you'd rather I be annoying..."

"It'll take some getting used to, but for right now, let's get that last slice of pizza."

And, as soon as Brian left, you would distract yourself from spiraling by getting right back on your dating app and finding a potentially horrible date. Who has time to think about the dreaded but inevitable passage of time when talking to a man whose idea of flirting is to ask you over to his place for a booty call?

You'd known Brian long enough to realize that he wasn't going to give in. He was weirdly stubborn like that, so it was in everyone's best interest for you to give in.

"Fine," you muttered, shooting him an expression that made it clear you were not happy. "But we're agreeing right here and now that you will lead the next discussion. Even if I pick the book. Okay?"

"Okay," Brian agreed easily, his lips curved into a smile as he nodded.

With a huff, you retrieved your copy of the book from your bag and flipped to the back; when you'd finished it a few days ago, you were fairly sure you'd seen a section at the end with some discussion questions. As a co-leader of a Book Club, you weren't entirely happy to take the questions straight from the book -- you had more intelligence and creativity than that! -- but it would have to do for now. The other club members were starting to trickle in, and the official start time of the first meeting was a mere handful of minutes away.

You may not be prepared, but you still had a discussion to lead!

As soon as the last person (besides Brian) let the door close behind them, you huffed out a relieved exhale and plopped back down on your chair.

"You did great!" Brian chuckled as he shuffled over to you, clutching the book in one hand. "Why so glum, chum?"

"Besides the fact that I wasn't prepared to lead the discussion?"

"There's a besides? What's up?"

You lifted one corner of your lips to sneer in response -- but not at him. Just... in general.

"I told you about the guy I was messaging on the dating app, right?" you asked, letting your head loll back so you could gaze (dissociate) at the ceiling.

"Yeah..." Brian answered.

You felt him sit down next to you, but you didn't quite have enough energy to move and face him at the moment.

"He wanted to meet up, but he invited himself over to my place for movie night," you explained. "For a first date. I told him I wasn't comfortable with that since I don't know him, but he kept pushing, saying I can trust him."

"Yikes, total red flags."

"Exactly. So I blocked him, and yet again, I feel as if I've wasted hours of my life talking to some shitty dude!"

With a sigh, Brian reached one hand over, resting it on your shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. "Sorry," he frowned. "If it makes you feel better, my luck on the dating apps is pretty much the same."

"Really?" you asked, finally lifting your head to look over at him, unable to hide the shock in your voice.

Brian nodded, humming positively. "As soon as I feel like I get a good rapport going with a girl, she ghosts me."

You sluggishly turned toward him, brows furrowed, and asked, "Have you been on any dates?"

"A couple," he told you. "None of them enjoyable."

"What are we doing wrong?" you asked with a bemused, humorless chuckle. "We're good people!"

"We're very good people!" he agreed.

You simply let out a deep, dejected sigh and shrugged, frowning over at your friend.

"I'm sorry," Brian murmured. "If I had known, I would've taken over as host tonight."

One brow immediately quirked at his words. "No, you wouldn't have," you accused.

"You're right, I wouldn't have. But doesn't it count for something that I'm saying it now?"

"No, not at all," you laughed.

Brian shot you a smirk before pushing himself off the chair and holding a hand out to help you up. "How about this? Let's turn our bad dating app luck into a game."

"A game?" you asked warily as you slid your fingers into his palm and rose from your seat. "What do you mean?"

"Let's see who can go on the worst dates, and loser buys dinner," he proposed. He let your hand drop from his and began leading you to the door of the community center where you'd booked the room for the first meeting.

"So, the loser would be the one who goes on the better dates?" you pointed out, brow furrowed in slight confusion.

Brian's own forehead wrinkled as he thought, but then he grinned at you and said, "Yeah. I think the person who goes on the worst dates will deserve to be treated, right?"

"But how will we decide whose dates are worse? I wouldn't put it past you to vote for yourself, even if my date ends up being an actual toad under a spell or something."

"I wouldn't do that!" Brian scoffed.

"Yes, you --"

"Okay, then, we'll let the book club decide," he interrupted.

Since the two of you had reached the front doors of the center by that point, you used the few moments you had while opening the doors and stepping outside to think about it.

Did you want to go on bad dates? Of course not.

But if you were going to delete the dating apps on your phone anyway... might as well have some fun first, right? And you'd get to eat dinner with one of your closest friends at the end of it, so...

"Why not?" you said with a relenting chuckle.

"Okay!" Brian replied, beaming. "Our next meeting is in a month, so let's say... three dates?"

You stopped at the end of the parking lot, holding one hand out toward Brian and raising your eyebrows. "One month, three dates. You're on."

One side of Brian's lips quirked up, and he reached out to shake your hand. "May the worst dates win."

As soon as you got home from the meeting -- from making your bet with Brian -- you wasted no time in setting up camp on your couch and opening each of your dating apps to check your most recent matches.

You found a couple of matches who seemed promising, messaging them right away and hoping they would respond just as quickly.

Thankfully, one of them did, and you spent the next half hour chatting with him.

...And then you realized you were a total idiot and were going about this the wrong way.

The goal was to go on the worst date, and that wasn't going to happen with guys you matched with. It would only happen with guys who had shown interest in you, but not vice versa.

So! Back to the drawing board!

You closed out of the chat and navigated to the area of the app where you could see who had liked your profile, but ultimately, you hadn't matched with. And rather than scour through everyone to find the least compatible person, you simply clicked on the first one listed and sent him a message.

Hi there

Okay, for some reason, that greeting felt kind of creepy. Oh, well. Too late to turn back now!

Hey beautiful ;)

You almost retched inside your mouth -- which meant things were off to a great start!

How are you?

Much better now that I'm talking to you. hbu?

All right, call you old-fashioned, but you couldn't stand it when someone used acronyms like that. You weren't in middle school anymore, and it really didn't save that much time!

I'm doing well, thanks :)

And since you knew the majority of guys on dating apps couldn't keep a conversation going to save their lives, you continued on.

Just got home from a book club meeting with some friends, actually. Do you like to read?

Nah, not really :P I'd rather do more physical stuff. I'm really good with my hands ;)

...Cool. You were now beginning to wonder if a date with this dude would be bad or just incredibly uncomfortable.

Before you decided to completely write him off, though, you wanted to ask one question:

On a first date?

wym

You would want to get physical on a first date? That's not too soon for you?

Ohhhh, well, I don't really do dates...

Then why are you on a dating app?

Mainly just looking for hook-ups

BLOCK.

You couldn't very well go on a bad date with someone who wasn't even interested in dating, now could you?

On to the next!

As you clicked on the next profile in line, you wondered how Brian was getting along. Had he already chatted with people on his dating app of choice, like you had? Or was he cocky confident enough to think he could find someone to go on a terrible date with at the drop of a hat, and so was putting it off until later?

...Honestly, why not just ask? The two of you were close friends, and you texted each other regularly when you weren't together in person.

So, after you started yet another conversation with someone in your 'discard pile,' so to speak, you switched to your text messages and selected your chat with Brian.

Any luck yet?

I don't need luck.

For what?

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, though an amused smirk tugged at your lips at the same time.

Have you set up any bad dates yet?

OH! Not yet, but things are looking promising. What about you?

Same.

You decided to let him think that things were looking promising for you -- that was the best way to play the game.

Since you gave no further details, I am choosing not to believe you. Are you down for a movie night?

Movie night?

What? Why was he suggesting a movie night? I mean, it's not like the two of you never had movie nights, but... I don't know, it just seemed to come out of nowhere.

Yeah, why not? Do you already have plans?

No, I'm free! But we just had book club.

...And your point is? We can't hang out twice in one day?

Omg you're so annoying. Sure, come on over!

If you're providing the space and the movie, I'll provide the food. Any requests?

Pizza

Pizza

Since the two of you had sent those replies at almost exactly the same time, you quickly typed out:

LOL you know me so well. Be here at 6?

See ya then 🍕🫡

Now that your plans for the evening were set, you had to figure out if you wanted to get someone on the app to agree to a date before Brian showed up or wait until he arrived so he could lend his opinions.

...Knowing Brian as well as you did, it was definitely better to do this on your own.

So, you quickly switched back to the app; when you saw the guy you'd messaged just before texting Brian hadn't answered yet, you typed out and sent messages to three other guys in your discard pile. Work smarter, not harder!