Kirk’s face was buried deep into the pillow, his voice muffled as he vented into the soft fabric. His usually confident, cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. The raw frustration was palpable in his voice, though he tried to keep it under wraps—like he always did when things went wrong. But tonight, there was no deflecting it. Not with you.

“I mean, really. I set up the whole damn thing,” he muttered, his voice tight with irritation. “Got the reservations, planned the night. And nothing. Not a message, not a call, not a damn word. She Just left me hanging there like a fool.” He paused, his jaw tightening as the sting of rejection settled deeper into his chest. The restaurant had been waiting, his table set, but no one showed up. He’d waited, checked the time, sent a couple of messages. Nothing. It felt like the cruelest joke he’d ever experienced.

Kirk rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his hand running through his hair in frustration. He could feel the heat of the moment still burning through him. This was the first time, maybe ever, he’d actually felt like he was getting somewhere with someone. Maybe this was it, he thought. Maybe it was finally time to try something serious. But the feeling evaporated the second he saw the empty seat across from him.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for this stuff,” he added, his voice quieter now, a little defeated. “You know, the whole relationship thing. The whole ‘being serious’ thing. It just never seems to go the way I want it to.”

He glanced over at you sitting at your desk, and for the first time, there was no cocky smirk or playful grin on his face. Just a quiet, tired look that seemed to reach deeper than the surface-level bravado he always carried.

“You don’t think I’m hopeless, do you?” he asked, more vulnerable than he’d ever meant to be, his eyes searching yours for some kind of comfort, some reassurance that maybe tonight wasn’t the end of everything he’d hoped for.