Curtis woke before his alarm, heart already racing. He wasn't sure if it was nerves or excitement—maybe both.
He got up, made his bed with precision, and did a quick twenty-minute workout to steady himself. After a shower, he made breakfast—avocado toast and black coffee—and, for once, stayed home instead of getting his usual from Coppa.
The smell of coffee filled the apartment. Everything gleamed under the morning light. Curtis rinsed his plate, dried it, and immediately put it away. Then he began pacing, scanning every corner of his apartment like a man preparing for inspection.
His space had always been immaculate— sleek, minimal, almost museum-like— but today, he wanted it to feel… warm. Lived-in. Human.
He fluffed the couch pillows twice, frowned, and rearranged them again. He checked the fridge — twice —to make sure the snacks and drinks he'd bought the night before were neatly stacked.
It's not like she's coming here to inspect your kitchen, he told himself, exhaling. Still, something in him wanted it to be perfect — or at least comfortable.
He caught his reflection in the mirror, ran a hand through his hair, then purposefully messed it up a bit to look "relaxed." White shirt. Denim jeans. Clean but casual.
He looked… approachable, he hoped. And then, all there was left to do was wait.
The building was grander than Allie expected—glass, marble, and steel rising into the sky like something out of a magazine spread.
She stood at the base, squinting up, the pastry box balanced in her arms."Okay, Mr. Harper," she whispered, "what exactly are you?"
Her reflection stared back from the glass doors as she fished her phone from the pocket of her oversized olive jacket. She double-checked the address and Curtis's message—the one with the entry code he'd sent the night before.
Her stomach fluttered. Why am I nervous? It's not a date. It's work. A weird kind of work, but still… work.
She keyed in the code and stepped into the elevator. The mirrored walls reflected her from all angles—the black dress, the crew socks, the polished oxfords. Her hair was tied half-up, a few strands brushing her cheek. She looked… casual. Maybe too casual.
By the time the elevator doors slid open to his floor, she'd given herself three pep talks.
The hallway smelled faintly of cedar and something expensive — a scent that made her feel instantly underdressed. She texted Curtis that she'd arrived and, seconds later, rang the bell.
The door opened almost immediately.
Curtis stood there — calm but obviously nervous — his white shirt crisp, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.
"Allie," he greeted, his voice smooth but uncertain.
Allie smiled, holding up the pastry box like an offering. "Hey! Thanks for having me."
He took the box with both hands, recovering his composure. "You're welcome. Please, come in." Inside, the space was immaculate.
Her eyes darted everywhere—the gleaming kitchen, the minimalist furniture, the framed art that actually looked real, not store-bought prints. His home smelled faintly of coffee and YSL cologne. It was spacious but not cold—the kind of place you'd see in a design magazine and assume no one actually lived there.
Then her gaze landed on the living room—the centerpiece being a Wrensilva M1 vinyl console and a rotating shelf of records.
"Whoa," she blurted. "You have a vinyl collection?"
Curtis looked slightly embarrassed but nodded. "I do."
"Okay, didn't see that coming," she said, half teasing, half impressed.
He motioned for her to sit, his hand slightly stiff as he gestured toward the couch. She perched carefully on the edge, still in awe.
Curtis hesitated, debating whether to offer coffee or just bring it. He'd never served a guest before—not one that wasn't family.
Finally, he asked, scratching the back of his neck,"Um… Allie? How do you take your coffee? Iced? Hot? Sweetener? Latte? Sugar-free?"
The sheer earnestness of his tone made her laugh. "Relax, Gordon Ramsay. Water's fine—I already had coffee."
He blinked, then gave a small smile and retrieved a chilled bottle from the fridge.
As she sipped, she looked around again—the lack of family photos caught her attention. No pets, no clutter. Everything had a place. Everything stayed there.
"So," she said, setting her bottle down, "you said you work in finance, right?"
"Financial analyst," he confirmed.
"So… a stock-market bro?" she teased.
He gave her a deadpan look. "Not exactly."
She laughed softly. "Kidding."
The silence stretched before her eyes drifted back to the vinyl player. "I can't get over this setup. What kind of music are you into?"
Curtis seemed relieved. "Mostly EDM, rock, hip-hop, and jazz. Depends on my mood."
She nodded. "Same."
He hesitated, watching her curiously. Then, surprising himself, he offered, "Would you… like a tour?"
Her face lit up. "Yes, please! I promise I won't open any weird drawers." As they walked, Allie's curiosity came alive.
"What's this button do?""And this?""Wait—you actually cook? Or do you just display your pans for decoration?"
Curtis answered each question patiently, his initial stiffness melting as he spoke. He explained things precisely, almost academically, but his enthusiasm slipped through when he showed her his small patio garden—the one corner of his home that looked truly alive.
Tiny pots lined the railing—herbs, succulents, even a small lemon tree.
Allie's eyes softened. "You take care of these yourself?"
He nodded. "It's relaxing. They don't talk back."
She laughed, the sound bright against the morning air. "You're not as bad at this social thing as you think."
He glanced at her—really looked at her—and for a second, he believed it.
The doorbell rang.
Curtis frowned, checking his phone—and his heart sank.
"My parents," he muttered.
"Oh?" Allie said, startled. "You want me to—?"
He sighed. "You don't have to hide. It'll be quick."
Allie followed a few steps behind, curious but cautious.
When he opened the door, a warm gust of noise flooded in.
"Curtis Lucas Harper," his mother declared, hands on her hips, "are you not expecting us? We told you we'd be in the city!"
His father stepped forward, smiling good-naturedly. "Now, honey, maybe he just forgot."
Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, mortified. "I—uh—completely lost track of time."
And then his mother's voice lifted an octave. "Oh! A girl!"
Allie froze.
Curtis's father peeked over his wife's shoulder and grinned. "You didn't tell us you had company, son."
"Dad, it's not—"
But Allie jumped in before he could finish, instincts firing.
"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harper," she said quickly, smiling. "I'm Allison. I just came by to, um—deliver pastries from our café!"
She spotted the pastry box on the counter and gestured toward it like a lifeline. "Curtis ordered them for you! He said he was excited for you to try them."
His mother's expression melted instantly. "Oh, Curtis, how thoughtful!"
"Very sweet of you, son," his father added with a wink.
Allie nodded eagerly. "Anyway, I should probably get going—I've got a shift coming up." She grabbed her bag, still smiling like a pro. "It was lovely meeting you both!"
Curtis stepped forward. "Are you sure you don't want to—?"
But she was already halfway out the door. She turned back once, waving lightly. "Thanks for the coffee! See you soon."
He waved back, cheeks slightly flushed.
As the elevator doors closed behind her, Allie caught the faint sound of his mother's voice.
"Oh, what a lovely girl!"
And despite the chaos, despite her heart racing, Allie couldn't stop smiling.
•••
The apartment fell quiet again.
Curtis stood in the same spot, staring at the door she'd just walked through, the faint trace of her perfume still in the air. The pastry box sat open on the counter, a small, sweet reminder of how gracefully she'd handled the disaster he'd let happen.
He sank onto the couch, rubbing his temples, half mortified, half grateful.
Then he picked up his phone.
Curtis: "Hey. I'm really sorry about earlier. I wasn't expecting my parents to show up like that. Thank you for being so understanding."
He hesitated before pressing send, then set the phone on the armrest.
A few seconds later, it buzzed.
Allie: "No worries :) I actually had a great time. And your folks are adorable."
A quiet smile tugged at his lips.
He leaned back, letting the late-morning light spill across the room. For the first time, his perfect apartment didn't feel sterile or empty.
It felt lived in. It felt like change.