Just For Now

CHAPTER TEN - First Date

Naomi's POV

My phone buzzed at exactly 3:12 p.m.

I was lying on my bed doing nothing productive, staring at the ceiling and replaying last night in my head for the hundredth time.

Lucas:

Be ready by 5:30.

Wear something you feel pretty in.

I’ll handle the rest.

I read it once.

Then again.

Then, a third time, like the words might rearrange themselves into something less… loaded.

Wear something you feel pretty in.

Not nice.

Not casual.

Not decent.

Pretty.

My stomach flipped in a way I did not appreciate.

I typed: You’re doing too much for a practice date.

Then I deleted it.

Typed: Where are we going?

I deleted that, too.

Finally, I sent:

You’re doing too much for a “practice date.”

His reply came almost immediately.

Lucas:

That’s because it’s not one.

I dropped my phone on the bed like it had insulted me personally.

My cheeks flamed, and my heart beat faster than usual.

This was already getting out of hand.

I stood up and opened my wardrobe, then just stood there staring at my clothes like they were supposed to guide me through this emotional crisis.

Why was this stressful?

I had gone out with Lucas before. Quick food runs. Grocery trips. Errands.

But this felt different.

Planned.

Intentional.

Like he had thought about it.

Well, he did think about it.

I pulled out a knee-length brown dress I hadn’t worn in months. It had a soft fabric and was fitted slightly at the waist. Sleeveless but modest.

I held it up and frowned.

Was this too much?

I changed into jeans and a top.

Looked in the mirror.

No.

Changed back into the dress.

Added small gold hoops and a cute pair of sandals.

Brushed my hair again for no reason.

By 5:26 p.m., I was sitting on my bed doing absolutely nothing except listening for movement outside my door.

At 5:30 on the dot, there was a knock.

Two light taps.

I opened the door.

And for a second, I forgot how to speak.

Lucas was leaning casually against the wall like he’d been there for a while.

Black shirt. Sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. Dark jeans.

He looked… intentional.

His eyes lifted to mine.

Paused.

Then, he did a quick, silent sweep from my head to my toes before coming back to my face.

The way he looked at me made me flushed.

“You look nice,” he said.

I blinked.

“Nice?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You look really pretty, Naomi.”

Oh.

“Oh,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

He straightened. “Ready?”

I nodded, locking my door behind me like this was normal. Like my heart wasn’t doing strange gymnastics in my chest.

The car ride was quiet.

Not awkward.

Just… aware.

The soft music played. The sound of the indicator. The way his hand rested near the gear.

I kept looking at him when he wasn’t looking at me.

And every time he glanced my way, I turned to the window like I was deeply fascinated by streetlights.

We pulled up in front of a small restaurant I had passed a hundred times but never entered.

Warm lights glowed through the windows.

It looked really cozy.

Private.

Intimate.

I turned to him slowly. “You picked this?”

“You said you like quiet places,” he replied.

I had.

But that was weeks ago.

Casually.

Still, he remembered.

That shouldn’t have felt as significant as it did.

Inside, the hostess led us to a small table near the window.

Lucas pulled out my chair.

I paused. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

I sat anyway.

We ordered food.

And then something strange happened.

We relaxed.

Not into roommates.

Not into friends.

Just… us.

We talked easily. Teased each other. Argued about nonsense. Laughed over memories that weren’t even that funny.

And somewhere between all of it, a thought slipped into my head and refused to leave.

We weren’t trying.

There was no pretending.

This was just how we were together.

My eyes dropped to his hand, resting on the table.

Close to mine.

Not touching.

But close enough that I could feel the warmth from his skin.

I suddenly didn’t know what to do with my own hands.

“You’re quiet,” he said gently.

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

I exhaled slowly. “This doesn’t feel like preparation for Saturday.”

He didn’t look away from me.

“It’s not.”

My heart skipped. “Then what is it?”

He was quiet for a second. Then he looked at me.

Then he said softly, “It’s the part we skipped.”

My throat went dry.

Because he was right.

We did skip this.

The beginning.

The part where two people go out and learn each other outside four walls.

I looked down quickly.

My fingers shifted slightly on the table.

His moved, too.

Closer.

Still not touching.

But the air between our hands felt charged.

“This was a bad idea,” I whispered.

“You want to leave?” he asked calmly.

I shook my head immediately. “No.”

And that scared me.

Dinner ended too quickly.

Outside, the air was cooler.

The street was quiet. Soft lights. Distant traffic.

We walked side by side toward the car.

Not touching.

But our arms brushed once.

Neither of us moved away.

He opened the door for me again.

I paused before getting in.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

I hesitated.

Then, I asked the question that had been sitting in my chest all evening.

“Are we still pretending?”

He looked at me.

Like, really looked at me.

And didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Because I already knew.

I got into the car with my heart beating too fast.

And for the first time since this whole thing started,

I wasn’t scared this would get messy.

I was scared that I didn’t want it to stop.