Page 26 of Robbin’ the Rich

“Eighth grade. It’s basically crowd control with occasional chemistry.”

I laughed into my coffee while he grinned at me over the rim of his mug.

I liked him. That realization settled heavily into my chest sometime between French toast and our debate over whether Ewoks would’ve enjoyed laser tag.

His phone buzzed against the table suddenly.

Micah glanced down at the screen and immediately sat up straighter.

“Shit.”

I blinked. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed one hand over his face before looking toward the stove clock. “I just completely lost track of time.”

I followed his gaze. 10:47 AM. Usually by this point after a hookup, I’d already reclaimed my space, reorganized my emotional walls, and already started killing zombies online. Instead, I’d spent the morning flirting with a tattooed science teacher over coffee like we were starring in an indie romance movie.

“Sorry,” Micah said, already standing. “I, uh, promised Nate I’d help him move equipment this morning.”

“You’re helping people move after playing a Halloween gig?”

“I make terrible choices.”

“That’s becoming clear.”

He laughed softly while gathering the pieces of his costume from around the apartment.

Honestly, the visual nearly killed me. Black pants were hanging low on his hips. His bare chest was covered in tattoos I still wanted to spend several uninterrupted hours investigating. Blonde hair was still messy from sleep and my hands. Then he picked up the priest collar. I lost the fight against my laughter instantly.

Micah looked at the little white tab in his hand and questioning look on his face.

“You look like a very exhausted youth pastor.”

“That is the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Recovering youth pastor,” I corrected.

“No. No youth pastor at all.”

I walked him toward the door still smiling when he paused suddenly beside it. And for the first time all morning, he looked genuinely nervous.

Micah rubbed the back of his neck once before meeting my eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm.”

“Would you maybe...” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Want to go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

There it was. Not another hookup. Not “hang out.” Dinner. A real date.

I crossed my arms loosely and pretended to think about it.

“Well,” I said slowly, “you did make me breakfast.”

“I did.”

“And your nerd credentials are unfortunately strong.”

“I work very hard on them.”