The date is genuinely good.
That is the first thing that unsettles me, because I did not expect it to be. I expected polite. I expected fine. I expected something I could endure without effort and later justify as progress. I did not expect to enjoy myself in a way that felt quiet and real.
There is no awkwardness when we meet. No stiff greetings or forced smiles that linger a second too long. Caleb is already waiting when I arrive, leaning slightly against the low stone wall near the path, hands tucked into his pockets like he has nowhere else he would rather be. His posture is easy, unguarded. When he hears my footsteps and looks up, his expression warms, not sharpened by expectation, not hopeful in a way that demands anything from me, just softened by recognition.
“Hey,” he says.
“H
