Chapter 1 #2
“I started with drone racing—high-speed obstacle courses with tight maneuvering. I even placed first in a few competitions. In college, I shifted into aerial video. I uploaded footage to stock sites and ended up making enough to cover my tuition. Eventually, I turned it into a business.”
“That’s really amazing. Ambitious too.”
I duck my head, smiling despite myself. “Thanks. I really love what I do.” I glance up at her. “What about you? How’d you end up as a librarian?”
A warm smile curves her mouth. “I loved stories as a kid. I’d stay up for hours under the covers with a flashlight, reading until my mom caught me. It just… felt right to build a life around books.”
I smile before I can stop myself. Maybe the awkward phase is finally behind us.
We eat in mostly comfortable silence. I want to fill it, but I’m wary of what might escape my mouth. Thankfully, she guides the conversation toward upcoming library events—partnering with local youth sports teams for book drives and community nights.
After dessert, I grab the bill and leave cash on the table. Far more than necessary. A quick mental calculation tells me I’ve tipped close to forty percent. Apparently, the nervous energy is still alive and well. It’s already down, though. Taking it back would be worse.
Outside, the cool night air brushes my face as I walk her to her car—crisp enough to clear my head, but not enough to steady my pulse. Even in late summer, Minnesota nights can carry a lingering chill once the sun sets.
She smiles up at me. “Thanks. I had a nice time.”
Nice. Safe. But she didn’t bolt the moment sea cucumbers entered the conversation, so that has to count for something. Right?
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe we could… do this again?”
“Maybe.” She nods, her gaze drifting toward her car. “I should get going.”
“Oh! I’m—uh—standing exactly where the door opens.” I step aside.
She reaches for the handle. I panic and move to close the door for her—except she’s already closing it—so my hand lands lightly against the window instead.
We stare at each other through the glass for one long, immortal second.
I offer a tight smile and an awkward wave.
She gives me a polite nod before starting the engine and pulling away.
Not the worst date ever. Who am I kidding? It absolutely was. Worse than the one with my parents.
Owen
How’d the date go?
Miles
Nice.
Owen
Well, I’m guessing from the reply back it’s over.
Miles
It went terrible. I can’t do this dating thing.
Owen
What happened?
Miles
I compared her soup to sea cucumbers, then over explained sea cucumbers. Then I asked her about the bathrooms.
Owen
All classic dinner conversation.
Miles
I wish. Then I would have nailed the date.
Owen
Maybe she found you awkwardly charming.
Miles
Plain awkward is more like it.
Owen
If you want to come over, I’m at home watching YouTube videos.
Miles
I think it’s best I go home and pretend tonight never happened.
Owen
Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.
I lock my phone and stare at the empty stretch of curb where her car had been. She agreed to a second date. Somehow, I still managed to fumble it, but hope flickers anyway because she didn’t shut the door on a third. If that’s all I’ve got, I’m holding onto it like it’s oxygen.
Instead of going home to dissect every second of the night, I detour to Porter’s. A beer feels necessary. Maybe Rylee’s working. She hands out relationship advice to everyone else; surely she can spare some for me.
Porter’s is quieter than usual when I walk in. I slide onto an empty stool and scan the room.
“Hey, Miles. What can I get you?” Lach is already reaching for a coaster.
“Actually…” I adjust my glasses. “Is Rylee working tonight?”
The shift in his expression tells me before he answers. “No. She’s not here.”
My shoulders sag. “She’s good with advice. And I could really use some.”
He studies me for a beat. “Alright. Lay it on me. Maybe I can help.”
I hesitate. With Rylee, I know exactly what I’d get—direct, no-nonsense, actionable advice. Lach is more of a wildcard. But I’m already here, and he’s offering to listen. And he’s definitely had a girlfriend or two.
“There’s a girl I like,” I admit. His eyebrows lift, then he nods, inviting me to continue.
“I’ve gone out with her twice. Somehow, the second date was worse than the first.” I comb a hand through my hair.
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve got this feeling I only have one more shot.
If I mess it up, she’s never going to want to see me again. ”
“How do you know that?” He rests his elbows on the bar.
“Because if I were her and screwed it up as bad as I did, I wouldn’t want to go out with me again either.” I exhale. “So I need to wow her.”
He studies me. “How bad could the dates have been?”
I take a breath. “The first one turned into a double date with my parents. Not intentionally. They just happened to be at the same restaurant.” I wince. “My mom pulled baby pictures out of her purse.”
His mouth twitches.
“I left convinced there was no way I’d get a second date.
But she agreed.” I shake my head. “So for the second one, I made sure my parents had plans. I was so focused on making it perfect that I rambled about anything and everything.” I pause.
“Did you know sea cucumbers can expel their internal organs to ward off predators?”
Lach stares at me, not saying anything.
“Neither did she,” I mutter. “But she does now.”
He pushes upright, grabs a glass, pours a beer, and slides it toward me. “It’s on me.”
I take a long sip. It does nothing to dull the shame. “Thanks.”
Silence settles between us. He drums his fingers against the bar, thinking. Then his eyes brighten.
“I think I know your problem.” He leans in. “You need confidence. Dating confidence.”
I narrow my eyes. “And how exactly do I get that?”
“Nora’s building a dating app…”
“I already have the date,” I mutter. “I just need her not to hate me by the end of it.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “This isn’t a traditional dating app.”
That gets my attention, and I straighten on the stool.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps on the screen a few times, and turns it toward me.
“It’s for when someone needs a date to a function but doesn’t have one.
No strings. No expectations. You show up, be charming, you leave.
That’s it.” He scrolls through his profile.
“You could use it for practice. Get comfortable dating without all the added pressure.”
At the top of the screen, the OneDate logo glows back at me. This might actually solve every single one of my problems. “How do I sign up?”
“You’ll have to talk to Nora. It’s still in beta, but it should go live soon. I’m sure she can get you in.”
I give a slow, decisive nod, as if I'd just received a blueprint for survival. “Thanks.” I lift the beer and take a sip. Hope tastes like hops and fragile optimism.