Shit.
I clearly should’ve gone home to change instead of pulling a clean shirt from my gym bag. Every wrinkle feels like a mark against me. But at least I wore my good pair of black jeans, right? That has to count for something.
I tug nervously at the long sleeves, my fingers brushing the thin leather bracelet Korie gave me a few years ago—the one they said looks “effortlessly cool.” Right now, it just feels effortlessly ridiculous. I’d pocket it if I could remove it easily.
Why didn’t I try harder? I usually put effort into my appearance, but tonight… I don’t know. Tonight, it had felt like work.
I guess having a dozen bad dates kinda killed my motivation—and my confidence.
Gage looks up as I approach, as if sensing me. He stands immediately, revealing perfectly straight white teeth behind his grin. “Hi.”
I lean in to shake his hand. Shit, the guy even smells amazing—sandalwood and cypress. “Hey.”
He gestures to the empty wooden chair. “All yours.”
Lights reflect on the polished table, which is already set with small ceramic plates and chopsticks resting on little stone holders shaped like foxes. I love everything about it, even the cat-shaped salt and pepper shakers. So niche.
I need to tell Korie about this place. They’d get a kick out of it.
The restaurant is busy but not loud, which is nice after the day I’ve had. I need some quiet.
“This place is great,” I say, looking around. A huge step up from the burger joint I went to on my last date.
Gage seems pleased. “Thanks. It’s a favorite of mine. Everything on the menu is good.”
We order drinks—saké for him, iced green tea for me—and make the usual small talk. Being this close, I can see faint freckles on his nose and hear a soft whistle when he says certain words. The strange part is how animated Gage is with his hands. Still, he gets points for not having his phone out. There is nothing worse than a phone on a table when I’m on a date.
“So, how long have you worked at Calypso?”
Gage shrugs. “Six months, give or take.”
“Do you like it?”
Another shrug. “It pays the bills until I can get my license.”
I tilt my head. “License?”
“CPA license. I want to open my own firm.”
I freeze, expecting him to say he’s kidding, but his expression is completely serious. “Accounting, huh? That’s… interesting.”
Boringis the word that really comes to mind.
He laughs quietly, rolling a chopstick between his fingers. “It’s not exciting, I know, but after seeing how much money my parents made growing up, it was kind of a no-brainer. Easy stability, you know? I’ll be able to get my own house within a few years.”
He says this like it’s something I should strive for. But owning a house is certainlynoton my list of priorities. I’d rather climb a mountain than mow a yard, thanks.
“How about you?” Gage says. “What do you do?”
Still reeling from the insanely opposite career paths, I’m a little hesitant to tell him the truth. “I’m a rock-climbing instructor at a local gym.”
Gage’s shocked reaction is immediate and unfiltered—which isn’t unusual. Most people get nervous when they hear I make a living scaling steep walls. But instead of awe or curiosity, Gage’s face tightens in horror.
I force a smile. “Not a fan, I take it?”
“Oh, God, no. I could never.” He flattens a hand to his chest and lets out an abrupt laugh. “I’m terrified of heights.”
“You’d be surprised how many people say that when they come in, but they usually end up enjoying it.”
