14 MADDY
MADDY
They are called gentleman for a reason
By five-thirty, my room looks like a clothing explosion. Jeans, dresses, cute tops, jackets I haven’t worn in a year all over the floor. I’ve tried on six different outfits. They're all too casual. Too much. Too boring. Too trying.
I flop down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. What do you even wear on a fake date? I don’t even know where we’re going. Is this a jeans situation? A dress situation? A cute but effortless situation?
I tried asking for help, but that was a huge mistake.
Dawn said, “Dress. Always a dress.”
Tess said, “Jeans and a nice top. You don’t want to overdo it.”
Daphne said, “Whatever makes you feel like yourself,” which is sweet but also completely unhelpful. So now I’m back where I started, surrounded by fabric.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I turn to see Noah leaning against my doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“Get out,” I say, flinging a sweater at him.
He catches it. “Is this what a crisis looks like?”
“It’s not! Get out!”
He laughs and walks back into the hallway.
Eventually, I settle on a simple but flattering dress in soft yellow—nothing dramatic, just light and easy.
The fabric is soft and flowy, falling just above my knees with thin straps and a loose skirt that sways when I walk.
I add a small pair of gold hoop earrings and a delicate necklace, before heading downstairs.
Dad and Noah just left to buy groceries, which means the house is completely empty. Perfect. I grab my phone, scroll for half a second, and hit my nostalgia playlist. Within seconds, You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift is blasting through the kitchen speakers, echoing through the quiet living room.
I brush my hair and leave my natural waves down, swiping on mascara, a little blush, and lip gloss while singing along under my breath, which quickly turns into singing very much not under my breath.
I grab my hairbrush and lift it to my mouth like a microphone, fully committed.
I spin across the living room tiles, dress swishing around my legs, hair moving from side to side, still shouting the music—and nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jesus—!” I choke out, hand flying to my chest.
Ryan is leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with a grin that is far too entertained for my liking. I hurry to yank the volume down. “Oh my God—how are you inside?”
He pushes off the wall slowly, still smiling. “Back door was open.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Right. Yeah.” A small silence settles between us before I add, trying for casual, “How, uh… how long were you standing there?”
Ryan’s grin deepens. “Long enough to know why you’re always late.”
I narrow my eyes at him and then I actually look at him. He’s dressed in dark trousers and a black button-down, the sleeves rolled slightly at his forearms.
I pause for a second. It’s not that he looks wildly different.
It’s just that I’ve never really seen him like this before.
All put together. He didn't even dress up like this for high school graduation. And he looks good. I mean, Ryan has always looked good. But there’s something about him looking like he actually tried, and put in effort that makes him somehow look even hotter.
Still, the Ryan I know is there too. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, his brown wavy hair still slightly messy like he ran a hand through it on the way here.
“I just—” I clear my throat lightly and turn toward the hallway. “I just have a couple things to grab.”
He nods and continues to stroll around the kitchen.
And after a couple minutes, I slip my heels on and straighten up. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”
He looks at me for a second. “Sure?”
“Yes.”
Another beat.
“…Yes,” I repeat.
He smiles, satisfied. “Alright. Let’s go.”
We arrive after a ten-minute drive, and the second Ryan parks the car, I already know where we are.
I glance over at him. “Ah, so we’re going to Ember & Pearl then?”
He looks back at me, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “You ruined the surprise.”
“There is literally a sign right there,” I say, pointing to the sign that sits at the end of the parking lot and he follows my finger. “Oh, well, that sign ruined the surprise then.”
Ember & Pearl is basically Baylin’s headquarters of gossip. The restaurant is all red brick and creeping ivy, with soft golden lights glowing through the windows and above the door, the neon sign hums quietly.
Ryan kills the engine, and before I can even unbuckle, he’s already out of the car, walking around to my side. He opens the door and holds out his hand like he’s been doing this his whole life.
I blink up at him, then take it as I step out, “Thank you, Romeo.”
“You’re very welcome, Juliet.”
He shuts the door behind me but doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, his fingers shift and lace through mine as we start walking toward the entrance. His hand is warm, and surprisingly gentle. I glance down at our hands and then up at him. We both catch it at the same time and let out a quiet laugh.
“This is still weird,” I murmur.
“Extremely,” he agrees.
My heels click against the pavement as we walk, the sound sharp and fancy and completely at odds with how unserious this whole thing still feels.
He opens the entrance door for me, and the sound of laughter, clicking glasses and talking washes over me. He lets go of my hand, his palm settling briefly at my lower back as we step inside. Which makes me straighten instinctively.
The hostess stands on our right and smiles brightly. “Good evening, what can I do for you?”
Ryan gives her a little smile. “We made a reservation on the name Drayton.” He pauses a second before saying his name, pronouncing it with extra articulation.
Her gaze leaves the reservation list, and looks back up at us. Her eyes widen just a fraction before she smiles. “Ah, yes. Right this way.”
We follow her through the restaurant, weaving past softly lit tables and low conversations. A few people glance up as we pass. The crowd is a mix of polished and familiar people who probably come every Friday and order the same wine without looking at the menu.
The hostess leads us a little farther in and as we walk I shrug off my purse and jacket, tossing it over my forearm, before the waitress stops at a table.
Our table looks… different. There are extra candles—like, a lot of candles. The napkins are folded into actual hearts. Rose petals are scattered across the table and it looks straight out of a movie. Or a proposal. Maybe this is a special table or something?
I place my purse on the ground and my jacket on the back of the chair. Then I turn slowly toward Ryan, and notice he’s standing there with a knowing smile and straight posture. Almost as if he’s proud of himself. Wait—
“Did you—” I lower my voice, “—do this?”
He shrugs, way too casual. “Maybe.”
My mouth opens and my hand flies to my chest, looking at our table, not being able to find any words.
“Ryan,” is all that my lips manage.
Before I can say anything else, a waitress passes behind him and slips something into his hand. He doesn’t even look, just murmurs a quick, “Thanks,” like this is part of some big plan. With a smirk on his face, he pulls a bouquet out from behind his back.
Big. Soft. White lilies.
My brain fully stops working.
“Oh,” I breathe, because that’s apparently all that comes out.
I take them automatically, fingers curling around the stems. I lift them closer to my face and inhale the sweet smell. Nostalgia hitting so hard, my eyes close for a moment. How did he know lilies are my favourite?
“They’re beautiful.” I finally get out and around us, I hear actual aawws and I feel my face heat instantly.
Ryan leans in close to my ear, his voice low. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you blush.”
That does not help. I place the entire bouquet in front of my face to cover up my, apparently, red cheeks.
He grins and the attention around us fades. People turn back to their tables. The waitstaff disappears behind the bar so the moment settles and Ryan steps back, nodding toward the table. “Shall we, babe?”
I nod and give him a smile. He walks over to my side, shoving my chair as I sit down, before sitting down himself into the seat across from me.
I place the bouquet into the vase that is already sitting on the table and fix my dress slightly. Then the waitress appears again, placing two menus in front of us. We both order a white wine before she disappears again.
The second she’s gone, I lean in a little, lowering my voice. “Okay. Be honest. How did you pull all of this off?”
“I have my sources.” He shrugs his shoulders and my eyes drift back to the bouquet sitting between us. “How did you know these are my favourites?”
Ryan glances at them, then back at me. “They were always at your house,” he says. “When we were kids. Your place always smelled like lilies.”
My chest tightens. Lily-scented mornings.
My dad bringing them home, and my mom pretending not to expect them, even though she always did.
He’d replace them the moment the last ones started to wilt.
They were always somewhere—on the windowsill, the kitchen island, the living room table.
And every time, there’d be a note tucked in beside them. I love you more every day.
I blink it away before I start bawling my freaking eyes out in the middle of the restaurant.
“And you remembered that?” I ask instead and he shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Yeah.”
I smile at him. “Well… thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He dips his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I mean, if I’m gonna be a convincing boyfriend, I have to buy you your favourite flowers, right?”
Right. I almost forgot.
“Yeah,” I say lightly, nodding once. “You’re ridiculously dedicated to this whole thing.”
After the waitress brings us our drinks, and we order a fancy dish we both can't pronounce, Ryan rests his elbows on the table.
“So,” he says. “Should we start asking each other proper date questions?”
“Oh, absolutely.”