Warner Park (SAMPLE)

✨ Chapter Two | Mixed Signals

— Andrew —

This was the moment I had both dreaded and looked forward to. Ever since I woke up, my lunch break with Vince was all I could think about.

I fiddled with the long sleeves of my shirt, tugging at the fabric at my wrists as I sat upright in my chair. My eyes scanned the area, but there was no sign of him. It was 12:10, a full ten minutes past the time we'd agreed on. A creeping sense of doubt began to take over.

Maybe I had misread the whole thing. Maybe his thumbs-up last night wasn't an actual confirmation. Maybe he was gesturing to someone behind me, and I was completely delusional. My hands tugged at my sleeves again, and I promised myself I'd wait just five more minutes before giving up and retreating with my tail between my legs.

Fidgeting... it was a habit I'd picked up again recently.

I reminded myself to go easy. I'd been pushing my boundaries a lot since moving here, a personal challenge to step out of my comfort zone. My therapist once told me that the only way to overcome my fears was to face them, to let myself feel scared and do it anyway. The nerves had to go somewhere, right?

I flattened my hands on top of each other, trying to steady them. What was I supposed to do with them? Why couldn't I figure this out? Why were my hands always such a source of grief?

Resting them on my crossed knee, I took a slow breath and focused on calming down. My leg started bouncing, and I gave up. Vince had been right... I really needed to carry a book around to keep my mind busy.

This last week had been a haze of thoughts about Vince, ever since our first real conversation. It wasn't cute; it was distracting. My brain kept looping back to him while I waited for my coffee to brew, or when I was stuck at a red light.

The thoughts weren't even consistent. Sometimes they repeated, and sometimes new ones slipped in. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. What kind of car did he drive? Did he drink coffee or was he more of a tea person? Did he cook? What did he do with his daughters on the weekends? Would he ever tell me more about his relationship situation? Had he ever been with a man before? And what did he look like without a shirt on?

Last night, I'd asked myself the big question.... what did I actually want from Vince?

Sure, there were certain looks he'd given me that I wanted to explore. But beyond the raw attraction, I wanted to add him to my life as a friend. I wanted to collect him like a rare artifact, something unique and special. That didn't require anything complicated, right?

I was hopeful. I wanted to know him, the real him, and I promised myself I'd push aside the inappropriate thoughts for the sake of building a solid connection. Like Gary.

Gary and I had been texting last night, mostly about my questionable dating app choices. With his help, I ended up matching with someone who seemed promising. Gary had stormed into my life uninvited, declared us friends, and then stuck around like an immovable force. It was exactly what I needed.

I didn't realize how much I'd been dwelling on these things until Vince finally showed up, pulling me out of my thoughts. He walked up to the table, scratching his head as he approached.

It was perfect timing. If he'd been even a minute later, my self-imposed five-minute deadline would've run out, and I'd already pictured myself crying in the bathroom before heading back to work.

"Sorry I'm late," Vince sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stopped in front of me.

I let a small smile tug at my mouth despite the nerves. "Wow, you can apologize?"