Chapter 7
seven
Was it bad that I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night with Josh?
Probably.
It was stupid. How, after all of two or three hours together, did I somehow become just as ridiculous as the girl I had been in high school … and the first two years of college? That girl who’d practically curated an entire mental museum of moments about her best friend’s older brother.
After that Christmas, I’d sworn I was done with him.
I was. Sort of.
I didn’t carry around embarrassment or heartbreak—not really. Instead, I funneled all those years of feelings into something sharper, easier to hold on to. Irritation. Annoyance. A thin layer of cold indifference that kept me safe.
But now?
Josh was here. Again.
Right in front of me. In my apartment. Sitting on my couch. Asking me about my day like he hadn’t wrecked me once without even trying.
Somehow, that bitterness I had cultivated so carefully over time? It was already starting to melt. Which made no sense. I shouldn’t just forgive him. I shouldn’t move on like that night had never happened.
But why did it feel like doing so would be the easiest thing in the world?
Maybe because I already had.
We weren’t avoiding each other anymore. Not even a little.
When he came home from school and saw me still in my pajamas, half buried in a Word doc and a pile of career rejection emails, he didn’t laugh.
He asked me how my day was, like it was normal.
I asked him how his day was too.
And somehow, that became routine.
This week, he’d even cooked for us. Multiple nights. Real food, not just microwaveable garbage or emergency toast, slathered with unsalted stick butter.
He bought the groceries himself and didn’t ask us for money to split.
I’d been keeping a mental tally of what I owed him anyway. I promised myself that once I had a job—or an interview, anything—I’d cook something simple in return. Maybe spaghetti. Maybe I’d splurge on that stupid artisan bread I always passed at the front of the grocery store and never bought.
Tonight though? Josh had looked at me. Really looked.
Gina had spent the last two hours doing my hair, fixing my makeup, and demanding that I not wear a single piece of clothing made of elastic. When I stepped out, even Josh stared. But he didn’t say anything.
He stared.
I pretended not to notice.
He didn’t say a word.
Now, I was standing at a cozy little Italian restaurant in West Town, trying not to visibly panic as I gave a name I didn’t know to a hostess who led me to a table where I didn’t know who to look for.
This was the guy Brent had set me up with.
Brent claimed he was “perfect” for me. Apparently, he was looking to settle down. Which was … weirdly adult. And not necessarily a selling point.
At least it meant he likely wasn’t a total creep. Right?
I hoped.
I took a breath. Smoothed down my dress.
Then I saw him. For some reason, I was shocked.
For some reason, I was taken aback. He looked cute.
Really cute.
He had dirty-blond hair that was styled enough that it was clear he’d put some effort into how he looked for our date and wore a blue collared shirt that, on anyone else, I might’ve thought they had gotten it as a gift.
The rest of his outfit looked just as put together as he stood up with a wide, very white smile.
“Hey, you made it!”
“I made it,” I responded, trying my own smile that felt a little like I was trying to stretch my face into a strange expression, especially with the new dark lip stain that was slowly drying out my lips.
I’d tried to tell Gina that I was pretty sure I looked like a goth clown.
She had insisted otherwise. “Just let me have my moment, making you up! It’s just like old times, isn’t it?”
It had been. And I trusted her.
I needed to calm down and take a deep breath.
Dates were just dates. This was just a date. I hadn’t been this nervous when Josh plopped himself down across from me in one of Gina’s social-media-worthy restaurants. And this place was much cozier.
“It’s really good to meet you. I’m Trevor,” he introduced himself.
I moved toward the table, hesitating at his open arms. Oh, I was supposed to give him a hug.
God, am I really so rusty at this dating thing?
Gina’s intent for Josh to prep me for date number one already was failing me as I gently patted his back and stepped away.
He waved toward the table, half taking out my seat.
Huh, a gentleman?
For some reason, I hadn’t expected that.
Maybe this blind-date nonsense that Gina had in mind wasn’t such an awful idea after all.
“I’m Brielle.”
“Good, or else I just hugged the wrong person.”
He laughed, and I tried to give a laugh as well, though it came out a little forced. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice the extra effort.
Count that as a win.
“How are you?” He asked.
“I’m doing pretty good,” I said. “How are you?”
“Doing just fine. I was kind of questioning this—I’m not going to lie. I only ever hear about blind-date horror stories.”
“You aren’t the only one. It’s nice to meet you though.”
“Likewise. Have you been here before?”’
“Nope. I just moved in, sort of, a few months ago. I’m still recouping some moving costs, along with exploring everywhere.”
“It’s great here. I really like their pasta dishes. Their cacio e pepe is solid.”
“I love pasta anything,” I said, glancing down at the menu in front of me. “You have good taste in carbs.”
Not to mention, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten all day, both from nerves and trying to keep myself working on my computer to distract myself from how I hadn’t picked up groceries for the coming week yet.
He winked. “I aim to please my dates.”
“You’ve brought other dates here?” I lifted my eyes away from the menu, though I knew what I was getting based on his recommendation alone, if my stomach would stop buzzing like it was full of bees. Was it normal to be this nervous?
“Oh, yeah. I mean, the food is amazing, and it’s not too overwhelming. I guess that’s kind of bad on my part, huh?”
I shook my head. “No. If the food is that good, definitely not. And if you have a spot you’re comfortable with, I don’t blame you.”
He chuckled, reaching to rub the back of his neck. “Glad I didn’t just strike myself out there within the first ten minutes.”
“All good. Definitely not.”
Man, was warm in here?
I shrugged my coat from my shoulders.
Trevor gave a low whistle, just loud enough for me to hear. Still, I glanced either way to see if anyone else was looking. My cheeks heated.
“Sorry,” he excused himself. “You look beautiful.”
I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable again. I went with the top Gina had suggested—the sheer black sleeves dipping low over my shoulders. “Thank you.”
“You know what you want here?”
“Um …” I glanced at the menu.
I’d already studied it at home, determined not to embarrass myself. This place was one of those tiny, unassuming restaurants everyone online swore by—especially for their wine pairings.
It felt a little extravagant for a first blind date. But I figured, why not start strong? Besides, I had a good feeling about the last job I’d applied to. For once, the reply didn’t feel like a form rejection. They said they’d be in touch for the next steps.
Maybe things were finally turning around.
“She just sat down. She isn’t ready yet,” Trevor said.
I blinked.
So did the server.
“Oh, sorry,” she murmured, taking a step back.
“You can give us a minute,” he added, not even looking at her as she backed away. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” she said, slipping her notepad into her apron and turning toward another table.
I tried to smile after her, a little embarrassed. “It’s okay,” I told him. “I actually did look at the menu earlier. Or, if you’ve been here before, I trust your opinion.”
He didn’t respond to that.
Instead, he snapped his fingers. Snapped.
“Hey. When you get a second, we’re ready,” he called, again without even glancing in her direction.
The server’s polite smile didn’t meet her eyes. I recognized that look—tight and practiced. Trevor didn’t seem to notice. Or care as he rattled off to start with bread and the house salad. “Whatever dressing.” Before he looked away from her without a single thank you.
“Do you know her?” I asked.
“What?” He blinked at me like I’d interrupted something. “Who?”
I stared. Was he serious? “The server.”
His brow furrowed. “No. Why?”
“It’s just … how you talked to her. I thought maybe you were joking after first.” Or at least trying to joke. God, I hoped he’d just been awkward.
“Ah, okay.” He nodded like he understood now. Like I was the one who’d overreacted. He leaned back in his seat, settling in. “It’s fine.”
It was?
“I used to work in a restaurant,” he asserted. “I know how things work. They want to get in and out. Turn tables around you know. This way all of this is efficient.” He vaguely gestured around our table.
“You do,” I echoed. It wasn’t really a question. More of a … processing noise.
He shrugged. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
We sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t fine.
But I wasn’t sure if it was worth saying that out loud yet. Or if this was just a weird hiccup. First dates were supposed to be a little awkward, right?
Still …
The way he’d said “efficient” made something in my stomach flip, and not in a good way.