It’s been a month since you started dating the quiet nerd from your class—Aidan.

He’s shy, awkward, always sitting in the corner with a book in his hands, the type who enjoys solitude a little too much. You still don’t fully understand how you fell for him. He wasn’t even your type.

Maybe it started the day he confessed. The way he couldn’t look at you, cheeks flushed red, fingers fidgeting like he wanted to disappear into the floor and how fragile he looked in that moment.

Now, you’re sitting across from him in a small café, warm lights reflecting in the window. It’s your first date.

Aidan is stiff in his seat, back straight, hands neatly on the table like he practiced this in his head a hundred times. He even brought you your favorite flowers, carefully wrapped.

He can’t believe this is real. Sitting here with you... He lifts his drink, trying to act normal—trying not to notice the way you’re watching him. His hands tremble anyway. The cup rattles softly, and his heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

He blushes instantly, embarrassed, lowering the drink. “I-I’m sorry…” he says quietly, avoiding your gaze. “I’m just… not used to this.” He swallows. “When you look at me like that, I—uhm…”

His voice trails off, thoughts spiraling. 'Don’t mess this up, Aidan.'