And that right there had been my mistake: a miscalculation of what I could or couldn’t take; an overestimation of my control, of what would be experimental or real to me. The answer to my own question, what did I have to lose by doing this? Turned out, more than I thought. And we hadn’t even gone on our first date yet.
“Cronut you,” I told him, using the code for thank you we’d agreed on. Because friends don’t do stuff for friends expecting a thank-you, like he’d said. And I needed the reminder. We are friends. Lucas doesn’t date. This is all research.
His smile faltered for an instant, too quick for me to guess why or how. And then he was taking off both his and my cap and tossing them on the bed.
“Hey!” I complained.
“Break’s over,” he said, spinning on his heels and throwing open the entrance door. “Do you think we’re ready now, Rosie?”
Rosie, not Ro.
I swallowed, my earlier anticipation and nerves returning, but different. Bigger, scarier, but more… manageable, if that was even possible. So, I grabbed my leather jacket, threw my arms in, and said, “As ready as we’ll ever be.”
After walking a few blocks, Lucas broke the mostly comfortable silence. “Phase one,” he said. “The meet-cute, a spark of interest, the sweet anticipation that leads to that first date. First dates are like first impressions: you only have one chance to make it count.”
My cheeks flamed at hearing my own words on his lips.
I wasn’t exactly proud of myself for looking at romance through the lens of an engineer or a project manager, as I’d been in my job at InTech. As if I was optimizing a process. Setting these four pivotal points in a relationship that I needed to check in the hope of jump-starting my inspiration. But I guessed habits die hard, and this was an experiment anyway. We needed structure. Efficiency. A plan.
And Lucas had definitely studied the material, as he’d promised.
“I think we have the meet-cute in the bag,” he continued. “Remember the whole you thinking I was trying to break in and calling the cops?” How could I forget. “So, I’ve focused on the rest of phase one.”
“The first date.”
“In my experience.” He returned his gaze forward, checked a street sign, and made us take a turn. “The best first dates are goofy. Lighthearted. A little silly. They’re about clicking, seeing if you laugh at the same jokes, if there’s a spark there when you do, one that urges you to make the other person smile again. One that could lead to… more.”
“I have never experienced that on a first date,” I heard myself saying.
Lucas’s voice dropped when he spoke. “And I’m going to fix that.”
I looked down at my feet. “Maybe it should be you writing a romance novel.” I tried to joke. “We could look for a nice pen name for you, too.”
His chuckle rang in my ears, and I smiled in response. “I’ve never been good with my words, Rosie.” He came to a stop, his hand brushing my elbow. And only when I turned and met his gaze, he added, “But I make up for it with my hands.”
I thought my jaw fell open, all kinds of images—involving Lucas’s hands—invading my mind. And none of them had anything to do with him kneading dough. Or doing origami.
Before I could say anything, Lucas was spreading his arms and gesturing at the store behind him. “We’re here.”
My eyes jumped to the sign hanging above the door, and there was no point in denying my voice came out a little rocky when I said, “A record store.”
He opened the front door for me with a flourish. “Beauty before age.”
Ignoring how that comment didn’t make things exactly easier for me, I walked in, the characteristic scent of vinyl and cardboard triggering a succession of memories.
Before Olly was born and our mother left, Dad would take me to shops like this one. A different one every Saturday morning. We’d browse records for hours, each of us picking our favorite cover, the one we’d thought was the weirdest or even the one we deemed the ugliest. We’d never buy anything, though, but even that way, it had always been something I looked forward to.
Making my way inside with my head stuck in the past, I wasn’t aware of Lucas trailing close behind me until he placed both hands on my shoulders. For the second time today, I mentally noted.
He pushed me forward gently, leisurely, moving us farther in. I felt his breath on my temple before I heard his words. “You okay?”