HOLDEN
I’m still trying to catch my breath as we walk down the sidewalk.
I expected tonight to be a total mess, given how unprepared I was.
I’d gone through at least six outfits, trying to find one that didn’t fill my head with unsaid criticism from Korie.
One was too short, another had a stain, and the one I finally settled on—the only one that seemed to fit right—was missing a button.
I didn’t have time to go buy one, so I tucked the ends in to hide the flaw.
It must’ve worked because they haven’t commented on my clothes even once. Did they even notice?
I didn’t even plan dinner until the last second. I’d only remembered The Gravis Garage as I was walking out of work, and thank God for that, because otherwise, I probably would’ve taken us somewhere familiar and hoped it was okay.
But The Gravis Garage had been perfect. Better than perfect, actually. It was more than I could have hoped for. Seeing Korie’s joy as they explored all the menu options had made me kick myself for not bringing them here sooner.
So, yeah, once again, I’m totally winging all this… and feeling like an idiot as I go.
But if Korie says I’m not bad at it? Maybe I’m doing something right.
It’s dizzying to feel Korie’s arm through mine as we walk. Not because it’s uncomfortable—just the opposite. I’m trying not to read into it. Because this is Korie. My best friend. Would I feel this way if I did this with someone else? I’ve never tried.
“So, what should we do?” I ask, peering through the windows of the stores as we pass.
Korie lets out a quiet laugh beside me. “You tell me. It’s your date, remember?”
I flash them a grin. “Maybe I’m considering your interests.”
“Mm-hmm.” They bump me lightly, hugging my arm. After a moment, they laugh, for real this time. “Oh my God. You really didn’t think about the after part, did you? Like, at all.”
“Uh, no. It usually only ends one way, so…”
They snort. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
I fake a pout. “No? Damn. I was hoping.”
Korie laughs again, and we stumble sideways. I grip their arm to steady us.
“Seriously, though. If it were a real date for you, what would you do now?” I ask, genuinely curious about their answer.
They hesitate. “Even if you hate it?”
“Show me.”
Korie steers us down a narrow alley lined with small storefronts glowing under string lights.
It’s quieter here. Cozier. A dozen little shops tucked close together—art displays in one window, handmade jewelry in another, racks of soft-looking clothes swaying slightly every time someone opens a door.
It reminds me of one of the many touristy strips my family walked through during our family vacations.
“This is nice,” I admit.
Korie chuckles. “You sound surprised.”
“I am. You know me. I don’t shop.”
“We’re not shopping,” they say, smiling. “We’re browsing.”
I snort. “Which is just shopping with extra steps involved. I should’ve brought my pedometer.”
But I have to admit, it doesn’t feel like shopping. It feels like… drifting. Floating through time and space with someone I care about.
We drift in and out of a couple of places, lingering over things neither of us actually plans to buy.
Korie picks up random objects, turning them over in their hands, making little comments that pull quiet laughs out of me.
I do the same—pointing out ridiculous art pieces, weirdly shaped mugs, and a shirt with a slogan so bad I can almost hear it becoming an inside joke.
We step back out onto the sidewalk, and Korie’s gaze catches on something across the street. They light up, going up on their toes. “Oh! Holden, look! A candle shop.”
Before I can even respond, they grab my hand and tug me along.
And, yeah… there it is again. That strange buzz, almost like a rush.
It hits me low in my chest and shoots outward, sharp and warm all at once. My fingers tighten reflexively around theirs as we cross the street, like I need to anchor myself to something solid.
What is that?
I don’t have time to figure it out before we reach the other side. Korie starts to pull their hand back, but something in me reacts before my brain catches up. I slide my fingers between theirs.
Korie looks down at our joined hands, then back at me.
“We’re on a date,” I remind them, hoping the teasing covers… whatever that was. “Remember?”
Their smile is instant and bright as they tighten their hand in mine.
I have no idea what I’m doing here—seriously, what am I doing?—but I don’t let go.
We step into the candle shop together. It smells incredible. Layers of vanilla and citrus, something woodsy, something floral—all blending together without being overwhelming. The space is narrow, shelves lining both sides, people moving slowly through the aisles.
When we reach the center of the store, it becomes too crowded to stay side by side. Korie tries to walk with our joined hands behind them, but it’s too awkward. We’re forced to let go.
Shuffling forward, we bump into each other occasionally as we make our way through rows of delicately carved candles and figurines in every color imaginable. Korie leans in to smell one, then another, wrinkling their nose dramatically.
“Too much?” I ask.
“It smells like my grandma ambushed me,” they whisper, and I laugh.
When we make it to the back, Korie suddenly stops, eyes going impossibly wide. “Ooooh!”
I follow their line of sight.
There’s a little DIY station set up in one corner, empty glass containers, scoops, and bins filled with tiny colored soy wax pellets in every shade you can think of.
Korie turns to me, hands clasped. “Let’s do it. Please! I’ll pay.”
I scoff immediately. “You will not.”
They blink. “Holden—”
“Nope. I asked you out, remember?” I say, lifting a brow. “This is my thing. If my date wants to make candles, then we’re making candles.”
Korie opens their mouth as if they’re going to argue, then closes it again, smiling instead. “Okay. Fine. But I’m picking my colors.”
“Deal.”
We each grab one of the tall glass containers and follow the instructions for inserting the wicks, then move down the line, scooping different colored pellets inside. It’s weirdly fun to see what combinations we can come up with.
A little overwhelming too. There are too many options.
“What even smells good together?” I mutter, hovering over a bin labeled Citrus Cove.
Korie doesn’t hear me, too busy dumping a scoop of bright pink into their already half-full container. It’s a mess of yellows, blues, reds, and greens—no pattern or plan, just whatever catches their attention.
Which, honestly, suits them.
I shake my head, smiling to myself, and go a different route. I reach for the greens, adding a couple of different shades. Then browns, aiming for warmer tones. Something a little more… grounded. The scents I pick are woodsy and fresh, reminding me of the outdoors.
We move down the station together, occasionally bumping elbows and comparing progress. When we’re done, we hold them up.
“Yours looks exactly how I expected,” Korie says, holding back a laugh.
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Um. Yes?”
I snort out a laugh.
At the end, there’s a small display of charms that clip onto the top of the containers. Korie immediately zeroes in on them.
“Oh my God. These are so cute.” They pick through the selection carefully, then hold up two.
“This one’s me,” they say, tapping the sun charm. Then they hand me the mountain. “This one’s you.”
I turn it over in my fingers. The price tag makes my eyes bulge, but I don’t care.
We clip them onto the tops before choosing lids, and I pay before Korie pulls something sneaky and beats me to it. They would.
When we step back out into the evening air, I’m holding the small box with both of our candles tucked inside. Korie circles around to my other side, chewing their lip as they hesitate. When our hands bump, they slip their hand into mine again.
My feet stumble a little.
“This okay still?” they ask, softer now.
Something in my chest tightens… or loosens. I’m not sure which. Fuck.
“Yeah,” I say, a little too quickly. “Yeah, it is.”
I lace our fingers together again, surprised how perfectly they seem to fit together.
And there it is again—that feeling. Stronger this time. I don’t understand it. Is this what a date should feel like? I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve held someone’s hand, unless of course you count dragging someone to the dance floor or off to bed.
This isn’t like that. Not even close.
We peruse a couple more shops as we slowly make our way back to the car, like neither of us are in a rush to leave.
And when we get there, I don’t unlock it right away. Korie had to coax the invitation out of me the first time. I don’t need to think about it now.
I glance at them, noticing the faint shimmer in their pale blue eyeshadow. “Hey. You wanna… not go home yet?”
They’re clearly amused, quirking a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. “Is that really how you ask someone if they want to watch the sunset?”
I duck my face, embarrassed. Then, after taking a breath, I try again. “Could we go somewhere to watch the sunset together, Kor?”
“I’d like that.”
Relief settles in my chest, quick and solid. Relief that they said yes, or relief that the night isn’t over yet? I’m not sure.
I secure the candles on the floor of the backseat, tucked between my emergency kit and a spare harness I keep forgetting to return to work. Then I drive us out to a popular overlook to see the sunset.
It’s nothing new. We’ve been here a hundred times, both with friends and alone. Plenty of late nights, early mornings, or random drives when one of us needed to get out of our own head. It’s familiar ground.
And yet, it’s not.
So many things about tonight have been different. Better, if I’m being honest.
I park on a turnout, strangely disappointed that there are a few other cars here. We climb onto the hood of my car, sitting hip to hip as the sun dips lower over the city, painting brilliant streaks of gold and orange across the sky.
“San Diego can be so pretty at night,” Korie says softly. “With all those lights spreading out like a bejeweled ocean.”
“Yeah, it is.”
For a while, we say nothing. When I catch a couple making out in the car next to us, I look away quickly, tugging my shirt. What am I supposed to do now? If I was with anyone else, I’d already be making a move. What would Korie want?
I rub my thumb over my palm, remembering the feel of Korie’s fingers threaded through mine. That same warmth flickers again, quieter now, but still there. Tonight really had been fun. Not really like our usual time together. It’s strange how sad it makes me that we won’t have it again.
“Hey, Kor?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
They turn toward me.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Shit. What am I even saying?
“I—uh.” I huff out a small laugh. Go big or go home, Holden. “I know I only asked for one date, but… would you be willing to do this again?” I finally meet their eyes. “I’ve really enjoyed this. And… I don’t know. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
They seem surprised. “How? I hardly had any feedback!”
I shrug. It was more the things they didn’t say that spoke volumes. The soft looks of surprise when I got things right, or amusement when I didn’t. I could read it all, and it revealed a lot about myself.
Mostly, that it wasn’t all me.
I thought I flailed on dates, but I see now that I got some things right, even if my dates in the past said or acted otherwise.
“You’ve shown me more than you think,” I say softly.
Korie pulls their knees up, wrapping one arm around them. “I don’t know if you’re serious, but if you are, you’re supposed to let it build up a little,” they say. “Give it a day or two. Or a week. Then ask for the second date.”
I gape. “You want me to wait before asking?”
Their slow-growing smile is full of mischief. “That’s torture for you, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Korie snickers, bumping me. “You can do it. I believe in you.”
I roll my eyes.
Fuck. They’re serious. They want me to wait a week and build up the courage again?
But maybe with more time I can be better prepared for the next one. This one went well only because of luck and Korie’s spontaneity.
Korie is still watching me. “Why do you do that, anyway?”
“What?”
“Rush things.”
The question catches me off guard, and I have to think about it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid if too much time passes, something will change.”
Korie considers that. “But that’s the test, isn’t it? Allowing time to pass to see if the connection is still there?”
Hattie had said something similar to me a few years ago, and it had grated on my nerves. When Korie says it, though, it lands softer.
I turn it back around to them. “What about you? You stopped giving people a chance at all.”
Korie presses their lips together in a thoughtful line, then turns to look out at the city. “It’s more that they never give me the chance, Holden.”
Their honesty stumps me. “What do you mean?”
When they don’t speak, I cover their hand with mine. “Tell me.”
Korie sighs and pulls away, folding their hands in their lap.
“Guys check out before the meal is even over,” they say quietly.
“Every time. It’s like they realize my gender fluidity isn’t for attention and that it’s real—it’s who I am—and they, I don’t know, decide it’s too weird for them or something. They don’t want it.”
My heart clenches. What they’re really saying is they don’t want Korie.
“Is that why you stopped dating?”
They don’t answer.
I shift closer, wrapping an arm around their shoulders. Korie leans in without hesitation.
“Well, they’re missing out because tonight was amazing.” I keep my tone light, afraid they might hear the raw honesty in that statement.
Korie hums. “Yeah. It actually wasn’t a disaster. Imagine that.”
“Right? Imagine that.”
I stare out at the horizon, my arm still around them, a little too aware of how close we are.
Tonight was… something.
Something I can’t quite name.
Something completely unexpected.
And something I already want again, even if I’m too afraid to examine why.