Amelia has been pacing my apartment for twenty minutes.
"You're wearing that?" she demands.
"It's fine."
"It's safe."
"That's the point."
She groans dramatically and throws a scarf at me.
"You are going on a date with Zane Calder."
"It's dinner."
"It's a date."
"It's not."
"It is."
I check the time.
6:49 p.m.
I'm ready.
Of course I am.
I'm always early.
Amelia suddenly freezes.
Her eyes widen.
"Sunny."
"What."
She drags me to the window.
And there it is.
A black limo.
Parked directly outside my building.
My brain stops.
"That is not subtle," Amelia whispers.
"He did not."
"He absolutely did."
The back door opens.
Zane steps out.
Not in a suit.
Not overdressed.
Dark jacket.
Clean shirt.
Hair styled but not dramatic.
He didn't dress fancy.
He just arrived like a statement.
Amelia grabs my shoulders. "You are not backing out."
"I wasn't—"
"You were thinking about it."
She shoves me gently toward the door.
"Go. And if he hurts you I will ruin his career."
"That seems extreme."
"I'm serious."
When I step outside, Zane looks up.
And smiles.
Not stage smile.
Not performance smile.
Just… him.
"You didn't have to do that," I say, gesturing toward the limo.
He shrugs lightly. "I wanted to."
"That's… excessive."
"I have a reputation to maintain."
I laugh despite myself.
Amelia appears briefly in the doorway.
Waves enthusiastically.
Zane glances up at her, amused.
"That the protective friend?"
"Yes."
"Terrifying."
"Very."
He opens the door for me.
And suddenly—
It feels like a date.
Inside the limo is quieter than I expected.
City lights streak past the tinted windows.
"You're punctual," he says.
"I respect time."
"I usually don't."
"I noticed."
He smirks.
"Not tonight."
The restaurant isn't extravagant.
But it's elegant.
Dim lights.
Soft music.
Intimate tables.
He pulls out my chair.
I blink.
"You don't have to—"
"I know."
The waiter comes.
Zane waves off the wine list.
"Order whatever you want," he says easily. "It's on me."
My brain short circuits.
He's treating me.
This is a date.
An actual date.
"Zane—"
"It's fine."
I glance at the menu and pretend my heart isn't doing gymnastics.
We order.
Silence settles briefly.
Not awkward.
Just… real.
"You were spiraling earlier," he says gently.
I sigh. "I'm not built for the spotlight."
He studies me.
"You're not built for hiding either."
"That's dramatic."
"It's accurate."
I pick at the edge of my napkin.
"You've always been like this?" I ask quietly.
"Like what?"
"Loud."
He laughs softly.
"In junior high? Yeah."
"Why?"
He looks down at the table.
Then back up.
"My house wasn't… loud."
That's all he says at first.
I wait.
"I didn't get much attention growing up," he continues casually. Too casually. "So I made sure I got it elsewhere."
"By being obnoxious?"
"By being unforgettable."
I smile faintly.
"To prove something?"
He holds my gaze.
"Yeah."
The honesty in it surprises me.
"I finally got the spotlight," he says. "Built it myself."
"You did," I admit.
"And now?"
He leans back slightly.
"Now I don't have to shout as much."
My chest warms at that.
"You weren't always sunshine either," he adds.
I groan softly. "Don't."
"Blonde phase?"
I freeze.
"How do you—"
"Axel mentioned it."
Traitor.
"I dyed it because everyone else did," I admit. "It felt easier."
"Easier than what?"
"Being different."
I swallow.
"I was popular. But it didn't feel like me."
"And now?"
"I make videos. I build things behind the camera. That feels like me."
"And singing?"
I hesitate.
"That feels… exposed."
He nods slowly.
"You don't have to be someone else to do it."
"I'm not trying to be."
"You are. You're trying to be smaller."
The words hit.
"I don't want to disappoint anyone."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
He leans forward slightly.
"I do."
There's no arrogance in it.
Just certainty.
"You know what's funny?" he says softly. "When I first met Axel in high school, he never mentioned you."
I blink.
"He didn't know me yet."
"Exactly."
He smiles faintly.
"I didn't know I'd circle back here either."
The world does feel small suddenly.
Axel's last year.
Zane's first.
And now here we are.
Three points reconnecting.
Dinner passes too quickly.
We talk about nothing and everything.
Music.
Aetheridge.
Movies.
Broken Chord's latest drop.
He walks me to my door afterward.
No limo theatrics now.
Just quiet steps.
The night is cool.
We stop at my building entrance.
Silence settles again.
"You don't have to figure it all out right now," he says.
"I know."
"But?"
"But I don't want to hold you back."
He steps closer.
"You're not holding me back."
My breath catches.
"You're the first person in a while who makes me want to slow down."
My heart drops.
Then races.
We're close now.
Not touching.
Just—
Close.
His hand lifts slightly.
Like he might brush my hair back.
I tilt forward—
And then—
The building door clicks behind me as someone exits.
The moment breaks.
We both step back instinctively.
He exhales softly.
"Next time," he murmurs.
Next time.
He doesn't push.
Doesn't lean in.
Just rests his hand briefly against my wrist.
Warm.
Intentional.
"Goodnight, sunshine."
I swallow.
"Goodnight."
He steps away.
The limo door shuts.
And I stand there for a moment longer than necessary.
Almost.