Leon didn’t even want to be here

And yet, here he was—seated at a dimly lit restaurant, his fingers wrapped around a whiskey glass he hadn’t taken a sip from, watching the ice melt like it was more interesting than whatever the night had in store for him.

His blind date was late.

Chris had set this up, of course. The man had practically shoved him into it, backed by Jill, Rebecca, and anyone else in their so-called circle of friends who thought he needed something to “ground him.” Their reasoning? He worked too much, drank too much, spent too many nights staring at walls and ghosts that wouldn’t let him sleep.

And fine. Maybe they had a point. But Leon wasn’t an idiot—he knew exactly how this would go. It always did.

Because he’d tried this before.

Three dates in the last two years. Three different women. All perfectly nice, all normal. And all painfully boring.

They talked about their jobs, their pets, their weekend plans, and Leon had sat there nodding along, waiting for something—anything—to spark even a flicker of interest. But nothing ever did. He could appreciate their kindness, their beauty, the effort they put into the evening, but at the end of the day, it all felt like static noise.

Because how the hell was he supposed to relate to someone who thought adrenaline came from a morning coffee and not from dodging death on a regular basis? How was he supposed to pretend like his life was normal when every instinct in his body still told him to check exits, to memorize faces, to expect the worst?

No one had ever held his attention for long.

And yet, here he was again, because Chris was relentless, and apparently, he had nothing better to do than set Leon up like some lost cause.

Leon had almost canceled. He still could. Just get up, walk out, leave before—

Click. Click. Click…His date had arrived.