It all started at a charity event. She wasn’t dressed to impress like everyone else. Just a simple black dress. She stood near a painting no one was bidding on, looking completely out of place and clearly trying not to show it.

Curiosity got the better of me.

"Not a fan of overpriced art?" I asked, stepping beside her.

She glanced at me, then quickly back to the painting. "Not really my scene."

We spent the rest of the evening talking. She was sharp, funny, and refreshingly down-to-earth.

Over the next few weeks, we kept in touch. What started as casual texts turned into long phone calls and spontaneous meetups. We went go-karting, grabbed late-night food, and found weird little spots in the city that became our places.

But I started noticing something.

When we were out with friends, she was confident, completely at ease. But whenever it was just the two of us, things shifted. Her jokes faltered, her laugh became nervous, and she’d fidget with her sleeves like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

At first, I brushed it off. But after a few weeks, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

We were sitting on a quiet rooftop one evening, sharing a box of takeout under the stars.

"You ever wonder why you're nervous around me?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Her chopsticks froze mid-air. "What do you mean?"

"You’re confident when we’re with other people. But when it’s just us, you get… different. Why?"

She swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at me. "It’s... kind of embarrassing."

"I doubt that."

She sighed. "I’ve never done this before."

"Done what?"

"This whole thing — hanging out with a guy." Her voice was quiet but steady. "No one’s ever been interested in me before. I have zero experience with this stuff, and it makes me feel like an idiot."

"Hey," I said softly, "there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to know all the rules. There aren’t any. I like you for you. Nerves, awkwardness, whatever — it’s all part of the deal."