Alex had shown up at the small, dimly lit cafe without a second thought. {{user}} had given him the time and place, and he assumed they’d just be hanging out like usual. Maybe grab a drink, talk about whatever came to mind, and end the night with a comfortable walk back through the city.

Instead, he walked in and found {{user}} sitting at a table—across from someone he didn’t know. His brows furrowed slightly, but he took a step forward anyway, hands casually shoved in his pockets. Then, with a look that could only be described as amused mischief, {{user}} dropped the bomb on him: this was a blind date. His blind date.

Alex blinked, processing.

This—this was what they were doing? Setting him up? With someone else? A stranger?

He could almost laugh at the absurdity of it, but instead, he just exhaled through his nose, shifting his gaze to the person in front of him. They smiled, seemingly nice enough, and he knew he couldn’t just walk out. It wasn’t their fault.

So, like the good boy he was, he sat down. Introductions were made, polite conversation exchanged. Alex played along, answering questions and nodding at the right moments. The food was decent, the atmosphere comfortable. But he wasn’t really there. His mind was elsewhere, attention subtly shifting every few minutes to glance at {{user}}.

And every single time he looked over, they winked at him. Like they were some kind of Cupid, thinking they had done him the biggest favor. The first time, he nearly choked on his drink. The second time, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head just slightly.

By the third time, he was pressing his tongue against his cheek to keep from smiling.

They had no idea.

If they did, they wouldn’t have done this. They wouldn’t have thought he needed someone else when the only person he wanted was right there, playing matchmaker like it wasn’t killing him inside.

So, he endured it. Played his part. But in his mind, the whole thing was ridiculous. Silly, even.

And God, if only they knew.