Hidden in the farthest corner of my cramped wardrobe was a bin bag filled with clothes I’d scavenged from charity bins, each piece carefully washed and pressed. Tonight, they lay scattered across my bed, and I stood there, torn apart by indecision. What should I wear? The minutes slipped by—five thirty approaching—and my chest tightened with growing panic.

What to wear? What to wear?

After pacing the room, I settled on an ensemble: a crisp white shirt beneath an oversized orange sweatshirt, paired with dark, intact jeans and my trusty sneakers. Fumbling with my hair, I tried to smooth down the rebellious strands before glancing at the clock—five minutes to six.

I grabbed my phone and wallet, locked the door behind me, and hurried toward the bus stop near my place. My breath caught sharply when I spotted a sleek black Camaro idling nearby. My heartbeat sped up, hands on my knees as I tried to steady myself. Did I smell okay? Was my hair a mess?

Before I could answer, the car door swung open, and Hal stepped out. His presence was electrifying—tall, impeccably groomed, sleeves casually rolled up on a light button-up shirt, jeans, and boots. Never before had I seen someone so effortlessly magnetic. I wanted to move, but my legs felt cemented to the pavement. He approached quickly, concern knitting his brow.

“You okay?” he asked gently. I managed a nod.

“I thought I might be late,” I murmured, forcing a smile. Straightening up, I ran a hand over my sweatshirt, checking nervously for stains.

“I was a little early,” Hal replied with a small smile, then placed his hand lightly on the small of my back, guiding me toward the car.

He opened the door, and I slid in, the seatbelt clicking in place with his help. A flutter of happiness burst inside me, but it was short-lived when I noticed my shoelaces—untied.

My fingers found their way to my lips, a nervous habit I couldn't shake as Hal knelt and deftly tied my shoes with gentle care, moving on to the other foot with the same attentive precision. His eyes met mine—so expressive, so quietly intense—that I froze, biting my nail as he reached to pull my hand away, shaking his head with a quiet admonishment.

Once my feet were safely back inside, he closed the door and moved to the driver's seat, strapping in as the engine hummed to life. We hadn't driven far when he broke the silence.

“How was your day?”

The question caught me off guard. Could I admit I'd spent all day wrapped in nerves and anticipation about this very night? I forced myself to meet his gaze in the dim car light.

“Kitten, I asked how your day went,” he prompted with a soft laugh.

“I was at the store, helping customers and reading a book my boss gave me—Crazy Rich Asians. Have you read it?”

“No, but I'd love to hear about it,” Hal said, his interest genuine.

That simple invitation unlocked my tongue, and I found myself sharing more than I usually dared—chapters I’d read, the characters I’d met, the worlds inside the pages. Hal listened intently, never once interrupting or feigning distraction. His attentiveness overwhelmed me in the best possible way, making me want to soak in every second of this rare closeness.

When the car pulled up outside La Vie—the most luxurious restaurant in the state—I was momentarily speechless. Hal rose and opened the door for me, his hand reaching out in invitation. I placed my hand in his and stepped out, heart pounding as he handed the keys to the valet and led me inside, our fingers entwined.

Inside, the grandeur of La Vie enveloped me: golden walls gleaming under warm chandeliers, marble floors that echoed our footsteps, and tables dressed with fine linens and delicate glassware. The place was vast and elegant, yet the air was intimate, filled with quiet conversations and the soft clink of silverware.

“Do you like it, angel?” Hal’s voice pulled me from my awe.

“I never imagined I’d step inside a place like this,” I admitted, eyes wide as I took in the hanging lights, the lavish decor, and the expansive, airy feel of the two-story building with its rooftop dining area. “I’ve only ever read about it in magazines.”

“What’s on your mind? You look like you’re holding back something.”

Startled, I realized Hal's gaze was fixed on me, his brown eyes warm and expectant.

“Could we sit outside? Under the stars?” I asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” he smiled, then paused, reaching up to gently brush his knuckles across my cheek. “Don’t be afraid to ask for anything, darling.”

Heat flooded my face at his tender words, and I wondered how long his patience and kindness would last. What could I possibly offer to someone like him? My life felt so small—just a high school certificate and a job at a convenience store.

Despite the other diners scattered throughout the restaurant, it felt as though we were alone in the world when we stepped out onto the rooftop. The glass enclosure was intimate, with only two tables set beneath a canopy of stars. Hal pulled out a chair for me with an old-fashioned chivalry that made my heart flutter.

Seated, I surveyed the rooftop’s charm: delicate pots of greenery lining the edges, tiny lights strung along the walls casting a soft glow, and a gentle, cool breeze carrying the scent of blooming night flowers. The stars above shone brighter than I’d ever seen, and a quiet happiness settled deep inside me.

“How was your day?” I asked, wanting to return the favor.

Hal’s eyes held a thoughtful gleam. “Good. I sealed a few deals, but more importantly, I saw someone who’s been on my mind since our last encounter.” His words made me laugh, cheeks flushing with warmth. Just then, a waitress arrived with menus.

My eyes nearly popped out when I glimpsed the prices—two thousand four hundred dollars for the cheapest dish. Panic swelled inside me.

“Little one,” a quiet voice echoed in my mind, and I met Hal’s eyes. “Should I order for you?”

“Please,” I breathed, relief washing over me.

His smile was blinding, and I wondered how much joy he took in taking care of me. Watching him order with quiet confidence, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, replaced by a sudden ease I hadn’t known I could feel.

When the waitress left, Hal reached across the table, his hand covering mine. His touch was warm and reassuring.

“Thank you for saying yes to this date,” he said softly.

My smile was shy, cheeks aflame. “I wanted to.”

There was a question burning in me, one I couldn’t quite hide. “Why me?”

Hal’s gaze held steady, his voice unwavering. “Because you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

In that moment, surrounded by stars and soft light, I let myself believe it might be true. That maybe, just maybe, I was worthy of this kindness, this attention, this unexpected beginning.