“Uh, no. It usually only ends one way, so…”
They snort. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
I fake a pout. “No? Damn. I was hoping.”
Korie laughs again, and we stumble sideways. I grip their arm to steady us.
“Seriously, though. If it were a real date for you, what would you do now?” I ask, genuinely curious about their answer.
They hesitate. “Even if you hate it?”
“Show me.”
Korie steers us down a narrow alley lined with small storefronts glowing under string lights. It’s quieter here. Cozier. A dozen little shops tucked close together—art displays in one window, handmade jewelry in another, racks of soft-lookingclothes swaying slightly every time someone opens a door. It reminds me of one of the many touristy strips my family walked through during our family vacations.
“This is nice,” I admit.
Korie chuckles. “You sound surprised.”
“I am. You know me. I don’t shop.”
“We’re not shopping,” they say, smiling. “We’re browsing.”
I snort. “Which is just shopping with extra steps involved. I should’ve brought my pedometer.”
But I have to admit, it doesn’tfeellike shopping. It feels like… drifting. Floating through time and space with someone I care about.
We drift in and out of a couple of places, lingering over things neither of us actually plans to buy. Korie picks up random objects, turning them over in their hands, making little comments that pull quiet laughs out of me. I do the same—pointing out ridiculous art pieces, weirdly shaped mugs, and a shirt with a slogan so bad I can almost hear it becoming an inside joke.
We step back out onto the sidewalk, and Korie’s gaze catches on something across the street. They light up, going up on their toes. “Oh! Holden, look! A candle shop.”
Before I can even respond, they grab my hand and tug me along.
And, yeah… there it is again. That strange buzz, almost like a rush.
It hits me low in my chest and shoots outward, sharp and warm all at once. My fingers tighten reflexively around theirs as we cross the street, like I need to anchor myself to something solid.
What is that?
I don’t have time to figure it out before we reach the other side. Korie starts to pull their hand back, but something in me reacts before my brain catches up. I slide my fingers between theirs.
Korie looks down at our joined hands, then back at me.
“We’re on a date,” I remind them, hoping the teasing covers… whateverthatwas. “Remember?”
Their smile is instant and bright as they tighten their hand in mine.
I have no idea what I’m doing here—seriously, what am I doing?—but I don’t let go.
We step into the candle shop together. It smells incredible. Layers of vanilla and citrus, something woodsy, something floral—all blending together without being overwhelming. The space is narrow, shelves lining both sides, people moving slowly through the aisles.
When we reach the center of the store, it becomes too crowded to stay side by side. Korie tries to walk with our joined hands behind them, but it’s too awkward. We’re forced to let go.
Shuffling forward, we bump into each other occasionally as we make our way through rows of delicately carved candles and figurines in every color imaginable. Korie leans in to smell one, then another, wrinkling their nose dramatically.
“Too much?” I ask.
“It smells like my grandma ambushed me,” they whisper, and I laugh.
