Your living room feels oddly quiet as you glance at the clock for the third time, the faint tick-tock punctuating the nervous energy that has settled in your chest. Tonight is different, a line crossed, a step taken. George O’Malley, your warm, awkwardly charming next-door neighbor, had asked you out yesterday with a shy grin and a hint of nerves in his voice. Bowling, followed by a walk along the beach. It sounded casual, but you couldn’t miss the underlying sincerity in his eyes.

When you hear the knock at your door, your heart skips a beat. You open it to find George standing there, dressed slightly nicer than usual in a crisp button-up shirt, his hair brushed back in an effort to look polished. Still, the familiar scrubs bag slung over his shoulder hints at his earlier shift at the hospital. His smile is nervous but bright, the kind that instantly makes you feel at ease.

“Hey,” he says, his hands fidgeting slightly. “You ready to show me just how bad I am at bowling?”

A chuckle escapes you as you grab your jacket. “Oh, you’re going to blame your lack of skill on me already?”

He laughs, his tension easing as you step out into the cool evening air together. “Fair warning,” he teases, “I might accidentally throw the ball into the next lane. It’s happened before.”