‘Wait, you’re aZeldafan too? No way,’ Jericho scoffed, half impressed, half amused. The more he spoke, the more I felt like I was peeking past that mysterious, charming exterior of his and catching glimpses of the big, excitable kid underneath – and honestly, it was ridiculously endearing.
‘Listen!’ I said, already matching his enthusiasm. ‘Don’t even get me started onTears of the Kingdom. I’ve been stuck on that Phantom Ganon boss for six months. Six. Months. I’m at the point where I might actually throw my Nintendo Switch out the window.’
Jericho burst into this deep, hearty laugh that made mychest warm and my face break into an unintentional grin. For someone who seemed so composed, the laugh was disarmingly boyish, and I couldn’t help but adore it.
‘Phantom Ganon?’ he chuckled, shaking his head. ‘That’s nothing. Quickfire way to beat him: bait him into the corner, shield parry, then just hammer away. Honestly, if we hang out again, I’ll beat it for you in, like, ten minutes.’
He said it so casually, but the thought of him actually sitting beside me, controller in hand, solving the one problem I hadn’t been able to crack for half a year … well, that sounded suspiciously like bliss.
It was silly, but I could feel myself warming to him more and more. Not just because he might be my ticket out of Phantom Ganon hell, but because it felt like we were tuned to the same frequency. And somewhere between the laughter, the nerdy game talk, and the easy flow of conversation, I realised – I might just be developing a little crush.
As we made our way to leave the coffee shop, Jericho stretched his hands out towards mine.
‘Your hand, madam, if you’re OK with that?’ he asked devilishly, to my surprise. I’d never been on a date where a guy had done this before – at least not in public. It felt like he wanted the whole world to know I was his for the day – that he was proud to have me on his arm. For a moment, the tears nearly made it to the surface, but reality hit me hard, yanking me back to the truth: I was paying for his time. For all I knew, this was just part of the performance. ‘Why yes, kind sir; you have my consent,’ I replied.
My smile temporarily faltered, yet I took his hand all the same as we left the coffee shop, hand in hand.
We arrived at theSquid Gameescape room ten minutes ahead of schedule, where we were paired up with another couplefor the hour. After filling out all the forms, we started playing the game, and I was impressed to find that Jericho was actually excellent when it came to the logical and physical puzzles, as we breezed through those rooms with ease. I spent most of the hour just watching him with awe; he seemed to be in his element as he furiously solved Sudoku puzzles and tore the rooms apart looking for clues to get to the next rooms. He was like a big kid, and the more I watched, the sadder I became that this meeting might be our only interaction – unless I paid for us to have another date.
As we rushed into the next room, I decided in my head to think of a plan; Jericho had friends, right? I could just be another friend of his, and maybe then I wouldn’t have to keep paying to be in his company. I might do one more session with him and then float the idea and see what he thought.
As we arrived at the last escape room with at least fifteen minutes to spare, Jericho looked at me, gesturing me to come towards him.
‘We’ve nearly beaten it! I can’t believe how fast time’s flown, man.’ His eyes practically had sparks shooting out of them as he darted from corner to corner, diving under tables, kicking over cushions, and waving his hands like he was conducting an invisible orchestra, all in pursuit of the brass butterfly ornament. Meanwhile, me and the other couple stood frozen, doing absolutely jackshit – well, except me dramatically leaning on the table, pretending to be part of the scenery.
‘To be fair,’ I said, ‘you’ve basically carried all of us. My contribution was minimal at best. Aside from looking flawless, of course. Honestly, my radiant aura probably powered your stamina and sheer will to victory. You can thank me later.’
He lunged for the butterfly, tripped over a chair, and somersaulted into the corner. The ornament went flying – straight past him, clanging against the wall and disappearing out of sight.
‘Wait … are you saying I lost because you distracted the butterfly with your beauty?’ he wheezed, tangled in cushions.
‘Exactly,’ I said, holding my hands dramatically over my heart. ‘I am the secret final boss of this game. Bow before my power!’
Somewhere in the chaos, a cushion hit the other couple in the face.
I shrugged, grinning. ‘Collateral damage. Worth it.’
At that, Jericho finally paused his wild butterfly hunt, brushing off a pile of discarded cushions. He walked over, gave me a half-hug that was just enough to make my heart stutter, and grinned.
‘You’re absolutely right, Cassie,’ he said, eyes twinkling. ‘Now … if you could help me find this butterfly so we can finally win, we’ll get a celebratory meal. Sound fair?’
I blinked at him, part mortified, part amused, and muttered, ‘Fair … but only if I get to take full credit for your heroics.’
After a couple of minutes of searching, I saw the brass butterfly ornament out of the corner of my eye – it was perched behind a photo frame on the floating shelf.
‘Got it!’ I yelled as the other couple (who were absolutely useless by the way) whooped and clapped. I dropped the butterfly ornament into the task bin provided, and the game was over.
As we walked out onto Piccadilly and made our way to our final pit stop for a light dinner – Fortnum & Mason – I made a mental recap of the day so far: everything was going well, me and Jericho were getting on and we seemed to have established a playful banter that kept me on my toes. Yes, I had to acknowledge that it was perhaps a part of the performance on his end – but I was having fun and I could feel a little crush rising from the depths of my loins. I knew that I had to find a way to taper it somehow, though – the last thing I needed was to get hurt.
Fortnum & Mason gleamed like a cathedral of edible decadence, and Jericho was clearly on a mission to make it a full-contact sport. He darted between displays of glittering tea tins and stacks of fancy biscuits, nearly toppling a tower of shortbread in the process.
‘Earl Grey?’ he asked, lifting a tin with exaggerated reverence, only for it to wobble dangerously on the edge of the shelf. ‘Careful!’ I cried, lunging to steady it, and somehow ended up knocking over a jar of honey. It rolled across the floor like a sticky bowling ball, almost knocking into a toddler standing by the teddy-bear biscuit tins.
Jericho didn’t skip a beat. He dabbed a bit of jam from a sample tin by the till on my finger. ‘Taste test,’ he said, grinning like a cat who had just found the cream. I licked it off and immediately left a streak across the sleeve of my jacket.
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘Now we match. Team sticky-fingered chaos.’
On our way down to the stairs to the lower ground floor, heading towards the bar, I became acutely aware of a gaggle of teenage girls behind us, muttering and laughing together. Every few steps, I’d glance back at them and smile, and they’d smile back before leaning into each other to whisper. I couldn’t help but wonder – were they whispering about me? About Jericho?
