20. Karla
KARLA
Walking into the quaint little restaurant felt like stepping into a warm pocket of New York I hadn’t known existed.
Twinkly lights dangled across exposed brick; small wooden tables were tucked close enough to feel intimate without feeling claustrophobic—soft music played overhead—a track that sounded like someone took the essence of a date night and turned it into a soundtrack.
But none of that compared to the sight of Brayden’s gorgeous, all-consuming toothy grin as he stood to greet me.
He pulled me close instantly, his hands warm against my waist as he kissed my cheek. “Hey, beautiful.” Even his eyes smiled as he looked down at me. “Every time I see you, you’re more stunning than the last. How is that even possible?”
I shoved his shoulder, trying to appear unbothered when a nuclear-level blush tried to detonate across my skin. “Laying it on thick there, Cox. Better watch it—you’re the one who said we have to date before sleeping together.”
His smirk was wicked, familiar, dangerous in all the best ways. “Yes, and I’m already regretting my own rule.”
The host led us through the narrow restaurant, past the neon-lit drink coolers glowing like something from a nightclub, and into a cozier corner where the tables flickered with LED candles.
“This is a neat spot,” Brayden said, eyeing everything like he was cataloguing the atmosphere for future dates.
“I wanted this to be a memorable night. You said I had to pick the place, so… here we are.”
He reached over, lacing our fingers together across the table before we’d even sat down fully. “Nicely done.”
Somewhere deep inside me, behind all the old bruises and scars, something soft cracked open at his touch.
The server appeared quickly, filling our water glasses. “May I start you off with some cocktails this evening?”
I glanced at Brayden. “Are you picky when it comes to drinks?”
He shrugged, relaxed and warm and already too handsome for my emotional stability. “I’ll try anything.”
“I’ll have a lychee reach rich,” I said, pointing to the menu, “and he’ll have a lemonie anne.”
“Great choices,” the server said. “My name is Marc. I’ll get those started and be back to take your order.”
Once he disappeared, we sat in a pocket of easy silence as we scanned the menus—until Brayden looked up at me, confusion clouding his handsome face. “So… what’s good here?”
The hesitation, the slight tilt of his head, the way he bit the inside of his cheek—it all made me giggle. God, he was adorable.
This is going to be fun.
I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “The only thing they serve is tongue. You like tongue?”
A roaring hoot exploded from him—loud, deep, genuine. His hand hit his stomach as he doubled over. “You’re fucking perfect.”
I raised my brows innocently. “Whatever do you mean?” I sipped my water with my pinky extended like a badly behaved princess.
“Goonies. Yes. Thank you for that.” He flashed me another grin before glancing back at the menu. “But seriously, what should I get?”
Before I could answer, Marc returned with our cocktails—glossy pouches with glowing LED ice cubes inside, like adult Capri-Suns that got lost on their way to a rave.
“Are you ready to order?” Marc asked.
Brayden gestured toward me without breaking eye contact with the server. “I’m going to let the lady order for me.”
The butterflies inside me performed a full Olympic synchronized routine.
I licked my lips. “All right… we’re going to have one order of the angry sweet potato, kale, the eel tacos, and the steak.”
Marc beamed. “All amazing choices. You got an awesome girl here.” He whisked our menus away.
“He’s right,” Brayden said, grabbing his drink. “You are pretty awesome.”
“Yeah, my ordering skills are on point.” I winked. “Are you going to try your drink or just stare at it all night?”
He held it up, suspicious. “It looks like a child’s drink.”
“It’s their alcoholic take on Capri-Sun. Tropical flavors, LED ice cubes, borderline stupid,” I admitted with a quick shrug. “But fun.”
He took a sip and his eyes widened. “Oh, that is fucking delicious.”
My heart fluttered. He was relaxed with me. Easy. Open. That felt… terrifying.
“So,” I said, taking another sip, “since this is a date, maybe we should ask each other cheesy getting-to-know-you questions.”
He leaned back in his chair, smile crooking. “All right. Shoot.”
I tapped my finger against my lips. “Okay. What do you look for in a woman?”
“Wow. Throwing out the big guns right away.” He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking.
When he met my eyes, something shifted in the air.
Slowed. Softened. “I’m looking for someone who’s my best friend and my adventure partner.
Someone who’d make a great mom, eventually.
Someone affectionate, who likes being close.
Oh, and they have to get along with my sister, love dogs like it's their full-time job, be into hockey, and—” he nodded down at my feet “—wear killer bright-colored heels on a first date.”
“The lucky heels for the win.” I raised my drink, and he clinked his pouch to mine.
“How exactly are they lucky?” he asked.
“According to Martha, they’ve survived many dangerous situations with her. Job interviews. Bad dates. Jury duty.”
He chuckled. “I like them a lot.”
“Your turn,” I shot out quickly before I melted into a puddle of hormonal soup. “Ask me something.”
He tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “Okay… are you a cuddler?”
I squinted at him. “That feels like a loaded question.”
“How could that possibly be loaded?” He snorted.
“Because I want to be a cuddler, but in reality, cuddling is nice for about five minutes before your arm dies or someone sweats on you and then both people sit there pretending everything’s great while slowly suffering.”
Brayden laughed, nodding. “Touché. I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
The banter was easy—dangerously easy. It felt like sitting across from someone I’d known for years, not just feeling moments over years.
I needed to anchor myself.
“My turn.” I shifted in my seat buying myself a second to think of a zinger. “Do you usually date women, or is this new for you?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “I won’t lie—I have a reputation for sleeping around. I don’t usually date.”
A small, embarrassing thrill ran through me. “Then I must be really special.” My cheeks heated instantly.
“You have no idea,” he said softly.
The butterflies in my stomach became hummingbirds.
Marc reappeared with plates balanced along his arms. “Here we go—enjoy! First date or second?”
His bluntness caught me off guard, but Brayden answered easily. “Kind of date one-point-five. Or date one with a prequel.”
I jumped in. “Definitely date one.”
“Well, you two seem great together,” Marc said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Brayden picked up an eel taco. “Okay. My turn. Tell me something we have in common.”
The answer rose instinctively, unfiltered. “We’re both parentless.”
He froze mid-chew.
Shit.
“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down. “I didn’t mean to—”
He reached across the table and took my hand. “Don’t apologize for honesty. It’s just… a lot. And you know more about me because my life’s always been public. I can’t wait to learn about yours.”
My heartbeat stuttered. “Do you want me to explain?”
“Only if you want to,” he said gently. And he meant it. God, I could feel how much he meant it.
I took a deep breath. “My biological mother was in prison for drug distribution when I was born. No family wanted me. I went into the system—bounced around foster homes, group homes, all of it. The last family was awful. So when I was sixteen, I emancipated myself and… I’ve been on my own ever since. ”
Brayden’s face twisted with shock, empathy, and something fierce. “Karla… I’m so sorry. But look at you—look at what you became. You’re warm and kind. You’re… God, you’re incredible.”
I swallowed and forced a smile. “Thanks. But I’m just me.” A breathy laugh escaped. “New subject before I darken the mood even more?”
He pointed to his plate. “This taco is incredible, by the way.”
I exhaled gratefully. “Good. I’m really glad.”
And just like that, we drifted back into lighter territory—movies, music, work, travel. Every conversation thread felt easy, effortless. It was the kind of date that made hours blur.
When he walked me outside, the night was cool and soft, city lights glowing like they were winking at us.
“I had an incredible time,” Brayden whispered against my ear as he hugged me near the cab he hailed. His arms around me felt like safety. Warmth. Something dangerous in its gentleness.
He opened the door and leaned in, kissing me gently—careful, sweet, promising. “I can’t wait to see you again.”
A rush of need, hope, and fear squeezed my heart. “When will that be?”
“I go on the road tomorrow for a few away games,” he admitted, digging his hands into his pockets like he didn’t trust them near me. “We’ll figure something out when I get back.”
“Perfect.” I brushed one last kiss against him before sinking into the cab. “Goodnight, handsome.”
“Sleep well, pretty girl.” He shut the door softly.
As the cab pulled away, all I could think was—I’m in trouble.
But for the first time in a long time… I didn’t mind.