From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

1. Ava

one

Ava

“Bingo!”

After months of relentless effort, I’ve finally done it—a project that could change the world. Sitting in my lab, surrounded by notes and equipment, I feel a surge of pride. The Saint Helena gumwood trees have been on the brink of extinction, but now, I’ve found a way to save them.

These trees aren’t just any trees. They’re vital to ecosystems and hold cultural and medicinal significance in South America and Western Africa. Yet, barely anyone seems to notice or care. That’s why I’m here—to fight for what others overlook.

“What should I call the project?” I ask Annie, who’s packing up for the day.

“How about Saving the Saint ?” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “People love alliteration!”

Not a bad idea. Annie’s always good for quick, clever input. I glance at my computer screen, jotting down potential names. If I’m going to pitch this to Rubin McNeal, the famed philanthropist, I need everything—from the name to the presentation—to be perfect. He’s the only person I know with the influence and resources to help turn my vision into reality.

With the sports gala just two days away, I’m pressed for time. Not only do I need to fine-tune my presentation, but I also need to find a dress that doesn’t scream “I’ve been living in a lab.”

Fatigue pulls at me as I slump into my chair. The headache I’ve been ignoring all day refuses to be pushed aside any longer. It’s time to call it a night.

Driving home, I let myself savor the small victory. But the excitement is quickly overshadowed by the daunting reality of what lies ahead. Convincing others to care about a dying species of tree? It’s not exactly a hot-button issue. Most people are too absorbed in their own lives to think about the planet, let alone one species of tree.

Still, I cling to hope. When I met Rubin McNeal at an event a few months ago, he’d seemed genuinely intrigued by my ideas. That encounter lit a spark in me, and I’m determined to fan it into a flame.

Back home, I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the couch. My feet ache from the long day, but my heart feels lighter. For the first time in weeks, I fall asleep easily, comforted by the thought that I’m moving closer to my goal .

The next morning, it’s back to the grind. Annie’s my test audience as I rehearse my presentation. She’s a tough critic but always fair.

“You’ve got this,” she says, clapping after I finish. “Seriously, it’s solid. Rubin won’t know what hit him.”

“You really think so?” I ask, a cautious smile spreading across my face.

“Absolutely,” she replies. “This project is a game-changer, Ava. That investment is as good as yours.”

Her confidence lifts my spirits, but I keep my excitement in check. My dad always told me, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Wise words I’ve lived by.

This project is more than just science to me. It’s a chance to make a real impact. Losing the gumwood trees would be a tragedy, not just for their ecological value but for the generations of people who have relied on them. It’s my mission to ensure they survive.

“How about a shopping trip after we wrap up?” I ask Annie, eager for a break from the lab.

Her face lights up. “You’re speaking my language. Let’s do it!”

Annie’s the closest thing I have to a best friend, though she hates labels. “Just friends,” she insists, but the bond we share runs deeper than titles .

We met fresh out of college during a random jog. Later, fate threw us together again at our new hire orientation. Since then, we’ve been inseparable—working side by side, sharing meals, and even weathering heartbreak, like when her college sweetheart broke her heart.

She may not call me her best friend, but she’s definitely mine.

Annie and I head to the mall, determined to find a good dress without draining my entire paycheck. My job is tough and doesn’t pay much, but I love it. Sure, I’ll never be the next Darwin, but I’m exactly where I belong, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“This is cute,” Annie says, pulling out a pink cocktail dress.

It’s so pink it reminds me of Pepto-Bismol. I feel queasy just looking at it. I grab the dress from her and hang it back on the rack.

“I’m not going for ‘cute.’ I need something professional and put together,” I say, slowly scanning the aisles. Then something catches my eye.

“I think I found it!” I pick up the pace, and Annie trails behind me. I grab a short navy blue cocktail dress off the rack and hold it up triumphantly. “This is it. Exactly what I need.”

“Your legs would look amazing in that,” Annie says, grinning.

“How much is it? I can’t look!” I thrust the tag toward her and close my eyes .

She goes quiet. Too quiet. I expect her to shout about how affordable it is, but there’s nothing. I peek and find her standing at the cash register.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, shooting an awkward smile at the saleswoman, who raises an eyebrow.

“Buying you the dress,” Annie says, nudging me with her elbow to stay quiet.

“I can see that, but how much is it?”

“It’s on me,” she says with a wide smile, ignoring my protests.

Annie hands me the bag and wraps her arm around me.

“I can’t accept this,” I say, guilt rising in my chest. Annie and I earn about the same, and I know how hard it is to balance passion with practicality.

“Too late—it’s yours now. Buy us dinner, and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.” I smile, grateful beyond words.

I know buying dinner won’t make us even, but it’s the least I can do. Annie’s gesture has pushed our friendship into a deeper, more meaningful place.

Later, I’m rushing to get ready, fumbling to find my lipstick. Tossing pillows off the bed, I finally spot it hiding underneath.

“There you are.” I grab it, dab it on my lips, and glance at the clock.

Shit .

Grabbing my presentation, I race out the door. On the road, the lack of traffic is a blessing, giving me time to clear my head and ease my nerves.

When I arrive, the event is already in full swing. Rubin McNeal is on stage.

Rubin is a legend—one of the most renowned sports managers of his time, with an uncanny ability to spot talent. If he’s backing my project, it means he sees potential. That thought steadies me as I slip in quietly and grab a drink, listening to Rubin share his story.

Despite his success, he’s humble, always crediting his team for their dedication. It’s no wonder the crowd loves him.

As I move closer for a better view, someone steps on my foot.

“A bit clumsy, huh?” I say, bending to inspect my shoe.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” a sharp voice retorts.

I look up, ready to fire back, when I freeze.

Standing in front of me is none other than Sebastian Kane.

“Why, if it isn’t Sebastian Kane himself,” I say, folding my tissue in my hand.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, squinting at me .

“Just watch where you’re stepping next time,” I snap.

His laugh catches me off guard. “Now I remember. You’re Anna.”

“It’s Ava,” I snap, shoving the dusty tissue into his hand. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do with that.” The corner of my lips curves into a forced smile.

I try to step away, but the room is packed, leaving me no escape.

“That would’ve been a killer comeback,” Sebastian chuckles, “if only you’d nailed the dramatic exit.”

Embarrassment washes over me. Not only am I stuck facing him, but the fact that we’re in the same room is a cruel twist of fate.

Sebastian Kane. One of the best soccer players in the world. I’d know—my father is his coach.

At 5’8”, I’ve never felt small, but standing next to his 6’4” frame makes me feel downright tiny. He smirks, a cocky, obnoxious grin that lights up his deep brown eyes. For a fleeting second, I find myself captivated.

Damn it, Ava, don’t fall for it.

There’s no denying he’s attractive—his perfectly straight teeth, kissable lips, and those cursed dimples that could charm the devil himself. If I didn’t know his reputation as a serial dater, I might’ve fallen hard .

Now, up close, his sculpted physique is impossible to ignore. He casually stretches, flexing his muscles, and I catch myself staring.

Stop. Looking. Ava.

I tear my gaze away and focus on the stage, desperate to clear my head. But the tabloids’ headlines about Sebastian flood my thoughts: “Too Hot to Handle,” “Soccer’s Sexiest Bachelor.” Every week, a new woman. Every week, a new breakup.

Typical.

Rubin McNeal finishes his speech, and music fills the room. Couples begin pairing off, swaying to the rhythm.

Before I can take a step, Sebastian smirks and moves closer.

“Oh no. There is no way I’m—”

Before I finish objecting, his hand grips my waist, pulling me onto the makeshift dance floor. His confident movements steer both of us effortlessly.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible dancer?” he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

I raise an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you how ridiculous you look right now?”

He actually dances well—too well—but there’s no way I’m feeding his ego. My face remains set in an unimpressed scowl, though I silently count the seconds until the song ends .

Finally, it does, and Sebastian disappears into the crowd without another word. Good riddance.

Now, my focus shifts back to Rubin McNeal. He’s standing in the center of the room with his wife, Penny, radiant as ever. I weave through the throng, determined to catch him.

But, as if the universe is out to get me, Sebastian reappears, cutting me off.

Rubin and Sebastian strike up a conversation, and I’m forced to wait. I tap my foot, glancing at my watch. Minutes turn into an hour, and still, Sebastian monopolizes Rubin’s attention.

My stomach growls as I eye the dinner table, but I can’t risk leaving. When I finally glance back at Rubin, panic grips me. Both he and Sebastian are gone.

Frustrated, I move through the crowd, searching desperately. An employee passes by, and I grab his attention.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Mr. Rubin McNeal?”

He smiles politely and points toward the exit.

I rush outside just in time to see Rubin’s car pulling out of the parking lot. My heart sinks.

All my preparation, all my hard work—ruined. And the person responsible? None other than Sebastian Kane.