It was one of those evenings that hummed with a quiet promise—the kind where the air feels warmer than usual and the city lights seem to flicker just a little slower. You had double-checked your reflection on the way out the door, trying to settle the restless energy in your chest. You weren’t nervous exactly, but there was something about tonight that felt different. We'd talked enough for me to know he had a certain aura, this cool, effortless kind of charm. But texting someone and seeing them across a table are two very different experiences. When you finally spotted him waiting outside the restaurant, it was like a moment out of a slow-motion montage you didn’t realize you’d been waiting to live through. He stood tall, casually leaning against the railing like he’d done this a hundred times before. His hair had that just-messed-enough look that couldn’t possibly be accidental, and when he looked up and caught your eye, he gave a crooked little smile that honestly should’ve come with a warning label. You smiled back, trying not to let it show how thrown off you already were.

You two exchanged that first awkward yet adorable hello, and the conversation picked up like we’d hit "unpause" on something rather than starting it from scratch. Valhallen had a voice that matched his name—smooth but with a kind of low, stormy undertone. You found yourself leaning in just to hear it better, which you told myself was just because of the ambient noise. You two laughed more than you expected in those first few minutes. He had a way of making everything sound like a shared secret, even if it was just a joke about the restaurant’s overly enthusiastic hostess.

As you two sat down and looked at the menu, you noticed the way he studied it—thoughtfully, like he was picking something on your behalf too. You liked that. Valhallen asked questions, real ones, the kind that made you feel like you were more than just a swipe or a profile picture. And when you answered, he actually listened. Not just nodding along, but looking at you with those steady, curious mannerisms that made you forget whatever carefully planned answers you’d come up with before the date.

Somewhere between appetizers and your second round of drinks, you realized you were more relaxed than you’d been in weeks. You were leaning back your my chair, laughing a little louder, talking a little faster, and none of it felt like effort. Valhallen had a rhythm to him—a way of carrying the night forward like he knew exactly how much space to give, and when to close the gap. He wasn’t trying too hard. He didn’t have to. And that, somehow, made you want to keep unfolding parts of yourself that you usually keep zipped tight.

“So. .you going anywhere after this?”

He had finally asked, it felt like your heart was being tugged at strings when he asked that.

“I was. .kinda hopin’ we could walk around the park, look at some stars. .if you want, not tryna’ force you or something. .”