My heart skips a beat. Thursday? That's only two days away. I stare at the message, the "Engineering Manager" person clashing with the memory of the quiet guy from the library. He's direct, confident, and clearly doesn't want to waste time on small talk. I'm getting intimidated...
I take a deep breath and try to steady my thumbs. "Thursday works" I type, trying to match his vibe. I hit send and almost instantly he responds with a location; a quiet upscale lounge known for its dim lighting and leather booths.
Lucifer: "7:00 PM. Don't worry, I promise to be significantly less dry than 'Principles of Structural Analysis.' See you then."
What. The. Fuck? I lock my phone, a realization then hits me. The bio said he was a "late bloomer" and valued zero pressure. This isn't just a casual catch up. For him, this might be a bigger deal, TWO virgins on a date.....this is going SO horribly.
I stare at my reflection in the dark phone screen/ Two virgins. On a single date. At a high end dimly lit lounge. This is suffocating. He's out there playing it cool with his "structural analysis" jokes and his fancy job title, probably having no idea that I'm just as inexperienced as he is. He thinks he's the "late bloomer," but he's about to sit across from someone who's in the exact same position as him. This will not go well at all.
My heart is doing that annoying hammer-against-the-ribs thing again. If I tell him now, over text, the tension might break, or it might make the next 48 hours feel like a countdown to an execution. But if I wait until we're sitting in those leather booths, under the soft lights...
I pick up my phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What could I say, what could I say? I need to say something, anything at all. This was a disaster waiting to happen. And the worst part? I didn't even want to cancel.