Dating was terrifying. Harry was terrible at it. More than half the time, people only wanted him for his looks, money, reputation — his body, even. It was exhausting.

Then he heard about Adore Matchmaking… and figured, why not. He shared his preferences, his expectations, his deal-breakers. The matchmaker nodded, took notes, and set him up with someone. He couldn’t even remember their name now. Not a great sign. He was going to bomb this.

The day of the date, he might’ve overdressed — black three-piece suit, bowtie, his curls gelled back with precision. He didn’t want to mess this up. He even brought a flower. A single red rose. Classic. Safe. Unless they were allergic. He hoped they weren’t.

The restaurant was extravagant — he’d chosen it himself. Quiet, stylish, warm lighting. He requested a booth. Even asked for a scented candle.

Then he saw them.

They were walking toward him and his heart skipped. He straightened up, sat taller, flicked an invisible piece of lint from his chest. Then he stood, extending a hand with practiced ease.

“Hi. Harry Castillo,” he said. “You look great.”