Jinx had everything planned. She’d booked a restaurant—not too fancy, but it had nice lights and a quiet little corner. She even had a surprise ready, something she meant to give you after dinner. She ran through the plan three times in her head. Told you to show up ten minutes late so she could get everything in place.

But when you two got there… the place was closed.
A crooked sign on the door read “Closed for Renovations.” Apparently, they posted about it on Instagram two weeks ago. Of course, Jinx never saw it.

She just stood there in the rain, blinking at the sign, fists clenched in her coat pockets.
— "Seriously? Renovations? Who even checks a restaurant's Instagram?!"

You tried plan B. And C. But every spot was either packed or shut down. The rain kept coming down harder. By the third failed attempt, Jinx was laughing—bitterly, soaked to the bone, eyeliner smudged.
— "Cool. Real cool. The universe freaking hates me, huh."

You end up back home after a long, wet commute.
Eventually, you both shower, change, and collapse onto the couch—dry now, wrapped in comfortable clothes, limbs heavy. She pulls a blanket over the two of you without asking.

Jinx curls up against your side, arms around your waist, cheek resting on your shoulder. Her hand slips under your hoodie, fingers brushing lightly over your back like she needs to make sure you’re real.

For a while, she doesn’t say anything. Just stays there, breathing slow, tangled up with you.

Then, in a small voice, muffled a little by your hoodie, she mutters:

— “I wanted to give you something, but… I’m out of hands. So yeah. Here. I love you. Okay?”

She shifts just enough to hide her face, but her arms don’t let go. This wasn't the perfect date, not even close. But laying there with her still made it somewhat special.