You’ve always been better at liking people quietly—keeping crushes safe, unspoken, easier that way. Dating never really works out, and college mostly feels like deadlines and uncertainty until Mira, your accidental best friend, decides you need a date. You refuse, she insists, and eventually you agree to a blind date with an older friend of hers—no photos, no socials, just numbers and a park near a lake.

You sit on a bench pretending you belong there, phone in hand.

“I think I’m here… not sure where exactly,” the text says. “Same,” you reply. “Near the lake. Sitting on a bench like I belong here.” “Okay, good. I’m also pretending I belong.”

You smile, scanning faces, awkwardly aware that you don’t know who you’re looking for. Then someone stops in front of you.

“Um… are you maybe waiting for someone?”

You look up. “I think so. Are you?”

He glances at his phone, then back at you. “Yeah. I’m Anton.”

Something settles in your chest—quiet, steady.

“Oh,” you say, a little breathless. “I guess that makes you my blind date.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “I was worried I’d talk to the wrong person.”

You smile. “Same. I was fully prepared to sit here for an hour.”