It wasn’t until we were on the fifth or sixth step down that it happened. The lead giggler from the pack of girls suddenly broke formation, strutting straight up to Jericho with the kind of boldness only teenagers have.
‘Hey! Sorry to bother you, but aren’t you the guy who used to date Ca—’
‘Hey!’ Jericho cut her off, a little too loudly, his voice cracking with forced cheer. His boyish grin stayed plastered in place, but I caught the flicker of panic in his eyes as he looked from me to the group of girls in quick succession.‘Um, yeah that’s me; but I’m kinda busy right now. Really sorry, can’t talk.’
The girl blinked at him, then shrugged with a grin. ‘Oh, nah, that’s cool. You’re so much fitter in real life, man. Nice to meet you!’
And just like that, she rejoined her squad, all of them squealing and skipping off like they’d just won a bet. Behind us, I could clearly hear, ‘See! I told you, I TOLD you it was him!’
I raised an eyebrow at Jericho, trying (and failing) to suppress my smirk. Teenage superfans ambushing us outside a wine bar was not on my bingo card for the day. And yet, underneath my amusement, I couldn’t ignore the little itch left behind:Ca – who?‘He was fitter in real life’? What did that mean? He’d shut it down fast, maybe too fast. I told myself not to pry; after all, it was none of my business at the end of the day, and he’d clearly laid out his boundaries surrounding his personal life, but the curiosity was already nibbling away at me. I tried not to think about it too much, however, and tried to just stay in the moment even though he seemed a little flustered after the interaction. I told myself that there would be plenty of time for detective work later.
Jericho was obviously slightly shaken by this interaction, on the other hand. He picked up his pace as we continued on our way, seeming a little skittish. ‘Sorry about that, by the way,’ he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck while we walked.
I hadn’t planned on bringing it up but seeing as the mountain had come to Mohammed …
‘Don’t worry about it! What were they on about? Did you date someone well known or something? Are you some kind of local CELEBRITY?’
Jericho laughed; however, he seemed slightly on edge.
‘Ha! No not at all. I’m a no one. I guess they knew someone I used to date; it’s not a big deal.’
I was intrigued. To be honest, with the way he looked, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had told me right there andthen that he had previously been a contestant onLove Islandor something similar, gorgeous as he was.
‘Ohhh.’ I grinned. ‘Did you used to date an influencer or something?’ I wouldn’t have put it past him.
He slowed his pace slightly as he replied. ‘Something like that; d’you mind if we don’t talk about it? And could you maybe not mention it to anyone else?’
Whatever it was about that interaction had him spooked. Why would he assume I would gossip about it? Unless his ex was mega famous, why would I even want to know? I didn’t need anyone to compare myself to, thank you very much.
‘Uh sure, I mean I wasn’t planning to go on a gossip spree or anything, but you have my word,’ I eventually said.
The man didn’t like to bring up his exes. Fair enough, to be honest. I’d just met the guy.
We continued on our way to the wine bar and took our seats, with Jericho very kindly pulling my chair out for me. I pretended to swoon a little – just a fraction, nothing dramatic – and opened the menu. My eyes immediately widened.
Oh, wow … this is … ambitious, I thought, mentally calculating whether my bank account could survive a single salad. Deciding to play it safe, I hovered over the Caesar salad option, ready to declare fiscal responsibility my top priority.
‘Get whatever you want,’ Jericho said with a grin, leaning back while his eyes bored into mine hazily.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Even … Wagyu beef?’ I asked, half joking, half testing the limits of his generosity.
‘Even Wagyu,’ he said, shrugging like it was no big deal, which made me laugh – I wasn’t used to men covering the bill like this, and he had already been so generous as it was. I felt my face flush with gratitude.
As we waited for our food, we recapped the day: the chaos of the game, the perfume disaster, the near-catastrophic honeyspill upstairs. Jericho laughed at my commentary, adding his own exaggerated replays of my ‘secret final boss’ antics. I found myself laughing harder than I had in ages, the sound warm and easy, and realised my little crush had been quietly growing all afternoon.
I hesitated for a second, then asked, voice almost sheepish, ‘So … d’you think this date is going well then?’
Jericho tilted his head, flashed that mischievous grin, and said simply, ‘Yeah.’
Cue internal swoon.
By the time our mains arrived, the conversation had settled into a warm, easy rhythm. I ended up going for prawn and mushroom ravioli with a side of sweet potato fries, while Jericho had gone for a steak the size of his head. But as we ate and chatted, I realised how much I was enjoyingjust being with him. He was funny, unpredictable, and somehow managed to make even mundane observations feel like a private comedy show. I caught myself smiling at him more than I probably should have, and felt a flutter of something dangerous and exciting.
When our desserts arrived – a glorious, wobbling mountain of chocolate profiteroles – things hit peak ridiculousness. Jericho tried to be suave, lifting a fork with the utmost care, only for chocolate to escape and streak down the side of his shirt. I snorted so hard that a rogue puff of whipped cream went flying towards his face. He ducked, chocolate splattering a little on the edge of the table.
‘See?’ I said between giggles, smearing a bit of chocolate on my finger like a tiny flag of victory. ‘Romance is messy.’
‘Exactly,’ he said, leaning across the table with a grin, swiping a dollop off my plate and shoving it into his mouth like it was a covert mission. In his reach, he accidentally nudged one of the profiteroles, sending it wobbling towards my shoulder. Icaught it with a squeal, holding it triumphantly above my head like a golden trophy.
