KORIE
“Ican’t believe I agreed to do this,” I mutter, going through my clothes for the third or fourth time.
Behind me, two dresses and a suit are thrown on the bed. They didn’t feel right as I got dressed. Neither did the jeans and button-down. Nothing feels right.
Which makes zero sense, if you ask me.
It’s just dinner. With Holden, of all people. We’ve done this a thousand times.
Okay, maybe not like this. There has never been the pesky word “date” attached to any of our hangouts before, fake or not. It’s throwing me for a loop.
Holden had been so desperate when he sold the idea, pleading with me that he needed my help. It’s guilted me into thinking maybe I should put a little effort into this too. Make it seem real just to put the pressure on.
And fine… I’ll admit it. I’m a little curious too.
Of all the times I’ve heard of Holden on a date with someone else, now I get to see what all the fuss is about. If Holden really is making a fool of himself, or if it’s everyone else just choosing not to see what is so plainly obvious—that Holden is a catch.
Deep down, I know that. Everyone knows that. He’s a great guy with a wonderful heart. So why does he keep fumbling?
I’ve seen him flirt with countless people. I’ve seen him hold doors for others or buy them food. I’ve even seen him kiss or make a move before whisking them away somewhere private. But the thing is, all of that felt… hollow. Like a means to an end, even for him.
The truth is, I’m not sure Holden even knows what he’s looking for—which is exactly why this whole idea is going to be a disaster. How can I “coach” him on something when he doesn’t even know what he wants?
How can I coach him on something I am not an expert in anyway? I sure as hell don’t want to date anyone—I don’t! I’ve remained successfully single for over three years.
So why did I let him talk me into this?
Sighing, I grab a shirt from the back of my closet and pull it on. It’s one I haven’t worn before, and I don’t even remember where I got it. The material is shimmery and soft, reflecting the light of the room. I love it.
Opening my dresser, I dig around until I find the dark slacks and leather belt I haven’t worn in years. Finally, something that feels right. To finish it off, I grab the coral-colored jacket from my closet, then step back to look at myself in the mirror.
I don’t recognize the person staring back at me.
I haven’t dressed up in a long time. And I’ve actually styled my bleached hair—I didn’t just shove it into place with my fingers.
I wish I could’ve dyed it, but I didn’t have time.
Finally, I try a few different necklaces before deciding to go with a simple gold one.
There. I’m ready for… whatever he has planned.
I asked Holden twice for the details, but he told me not to worry about it—which only made me worry more. He’s kind of clueless when it comes to planning things.
Ugh. This is all so stupid. It’s going to be a disaster.
At 6:27, there’s a knock on my door. I take a deep breath before answering it… and my jaw drops.
Holden is wearing dark pants and an ironed black button-down with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Not the fanciest outfit by any means, but for him, it’s dressing nice. His blond hair is tidy, gelled forward into a gentle spike upward.
That isn’t what has my attention, though.
It’s the bouquet of bright pink and white roses in his hands.
“Hey,” Holden says quietly, holding them out. “These are for you.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “I… what? You got me flowers?”
His smile fades a little. “Is that okay?”
His uncertainty knocks something loose in my chest, and I pull him inside. “Yes, of course it’s okay. I just…”
I dip my nose into the flowers, trying to find my voice. I didn’t expect this. No one has ever bought me flowers.
I peer up at him. “You’re on time and you brought me flowers? I think that earns you ten points.”
His immediate oh-shit expression almost makes me laugh. “There’s a point system?”
I grin. “You better believe it.”
I’m totally making it up as I go, but hey. If he’s going to make me go through with this, I might as well have fun with it.
I turn toward the kitchen to find a vase. When I don’t find one, I use a glass pitcher from under the sink.
Aris is already in her cage, and she is not happy about it, screeching loudly and bouncing from perch to perch.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I mutter. “You’re very oppressed.”
Aris makes a noise of agreement.
I turn to Holden. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “Because you told me it’s rude to ask for input.”
I choke out a laugh. “Telling me where we’re going is not the same as asking for input. I wanted to know so I didn’t have to guess what to wear.”
Holden’s gaze skates down my body, then slowly trails up. Tiny, unexpected goosebumps break out across my arms. Shit, I should not like him looking at me like that. Like he’s noticing every detail.
The corner of his mouth hitches up as he reaches for the sleeve of my jacket. “I remember this,” he says softly. “You wore it to your brother’s wedding.”
I lean in playfully. “You’re supposed to say, ’You look beautiful tonight, Korie.’”
“You’re always beautiful, Kor.” His soft expression almost makes me believe he means it and isn’t just trying to earn some points.
Pulling away from the counter, Holden sucks in a breath. “As for where we’re going, just trust me?”
The hope in his eyes dares me to believe he actually put thought into this.
“You know I trust you.”
“Good. Shall we, then?”
When he offers me his arm, I stare at it for half a second before a soft laugh slips out of me. “This is so ridiculous.”
“I know, but humor me anyway.”
I loop my arm through his.
Outside, Holden opens the car door for me. I glance at him with a raised brow. “Two more points.”
Holden puffs out his chest. “Wait until you see how clean the car is.”
I climb in, and for the second time tonight, my jaw drops. Holy shit. He even vacuumed! Holden hasn’t done that since… I don’t even know.
“That’s got to be like fifteen points, right?”
“Hey. Don’t get cocky. Only I get to decide the points tonight.”
He belts out a laugh.
The drive is easy and familiar, full of the kind of conversation we’ve always had, but I turn the volume down. “I’d like to actually hear my date without giving myself a headache.”
“Noted.”
Holden turns off at the exit just before entering downtown, then parks outside a large brick building.
I peer out the window, frowning when I don’t see any signs. “Where are we?”
He opens his door. “You’ll see. Come on.”
Flowers line the walkway to the front door, and the elegant sign gives me no clues.
“The Gravis Garage?” I ask, brows pinched.
Holden says nothing, holding the door for me.
Inside, the space opens up to a wide, well-organized food hall—but not the chaotic, crowded kind.
No. This one is refined with multiple vendors lining the perimeter, each one styled like a miniature version of a high-end restaurant.
Warm light spills from their stalls, highlighting polished counters and carefully crafted menus.
In the center of it all, a formal seating area spreads out with decorated tables and cushioned chairs.
A large double-sided fireplace in the middle casts a soft glow across the tile floor.
And the food. My God, the food.
There must be twenty different food vendors, ranging from specialty drinks to desserts and everything in between. It smells incredible.
“What is this place?” I say, looking around.
Holden shoves a hand into his pocket, looking a little proud of himself. “I heard about it from a coworker. Thought it would be perfect for someone who likes all kinds of food.”
I peer over at him, my heart doing a funny somersault in my chest. Once again, Holden surprised me.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
Holden offers his arm again. “Why don’t we just walk around? See what there is. Then we can get a little bit of whatever we want. Sound good?”
I slip my arm through his without hesitation.
We wander slowly, taking our time to study each menu. There truly is a little bit of everything—Korean, Italian, American barbecue, and even some seafood. Around the corner are three dessert options: fried ice cream, upscale cupcakes, and warm pie.
My stomach growls. “Are you sure we didn’t crash on the way here? This is kind of like heaven.”
Holden flattens a hand on his stomach as he laughs.
He thinks I’m kidding, but I’m so not. I could stay here forever and be perfectly fine.
We end up ordering from a handful of places, sticking to small portions of each so we can try all the flavors. Holden insists on paying for all of it, reminding me that this was his idea. But with seven—or was it eight?—bills, I don’t even want to think about how much this is all costing him.
Holden tries to balance our serving trays like a gentleman, and when I try to take one from him, he twists away.
“I’ve got it.”
“You do not. Let me help.”
He groans. “Fine. Get the drinks then.”
I grab the drinks while he struggles to carry the rest of it. They clearly did not design the trays for people to sample as much as we are.
We claim a table near the fireplace—without incident, thankfully—and set everything down. Holden spreads the food out across the table, trying to remember who ordered what.
“Was the shrimp scampi yours or mine?”
Honestly, it could be either. And why does it matter anyway? We’ve shared our food our entire lives. Why should tonight be any different?
Because he’s treating this like a real date, I remind myself. This isn’t a normal night for us.
“Uh, yours?”
He pulls it toward him, then scoots the cup of spicy pulled pork toward me.