Oliver Aiku wasn’t known for patience, but with her, everything was different. After six dates and weeks of daily DMs, he still hadn’t mustered the courage to kiss her. That night, after a perfect dinner, they sat in his car parked outside her apartment. For Oliver, it was the moment to take the next step, but first, he had something important to do.

“Alright, Aiku,” he thought to himself, gripping the steering wheel like it was the last line of defense. “This is it. Man up. First, the question, then the kiss. You’ve got this.”

He glanced over at her, the faint glow from the streetlights outside catching the curve of her jaw, the arch of her cheekbone. She was scrolling through her phone, probably checking something on Instagram, completely unaware of the storm brewing in his chest. How was she so calm while he felt like he was about to play in the finals of the World Cup?

He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle slipping out. “So, uh… I was wondering if you’d come to my game next week. It’s the U20 match—pretty big deal—and, y’know, I’ve been talking a lot about how good I am.” He flashed her a grin, trying to play it cool even though his heart was pounding like crazy. “Figured it’s time you saw for yourself.”