It started as a game—at least for you.

Every day after the tour, like clockwork, Rydal would ask.

“Dinner tonight?” “No.” “Drinks, then?” “No.” “Walk with me, at least?” “Nope.”

He always played it off with a smirk, a wink, the dramatic sigh of a man pretending he wasn’t wounded. His charm was persistent—sun-drenched and easy—but you liked watching it falter just a little. Liked knowing he was the one flustered for once.

But by the sixth rejection, something had changed.

That afternoon, the sun was cruel and golden over the ruins, casting long shadows on the stone. The rest of the group was shuffling forward with their cameras and brochures, but you lingered, and so did he. Rydal leaned against a marble column, arms crossed, jaw tense.

No smirk. No wink. Just narrowed eyes squinting at you like you were a riddle he couldn’t crack.

“Alright,” he muttered, stepping away from the column and toward you, his voice quieter, more serious. “What’s the deal?”

You gave a noncommittal shrug, playing coy—but he wasn’t biting anymore.

“No, seriously. You’ve gotta give me something. A reason. A lie. Even a ‘maybe.’” His voice cracked with frustration, and you watched him run a hand through his hair, exasperated now. “I’m not sleeping, you know that? I’m pacing my room like a lunatic, writing out dumb things I might say to you. It’s pathetic.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. For the first time, he wasn’t flirting. He was unraveling.

“Do you enjoy torturing me?” he asked, but there wasn’t any venom in it. Just a weary kind of desperation. “Because I’m trying here. Really trying. And I swear I’ll be decent, even boring, if that’s what it takes. I’ll wear a stupid button-up. I’ll talk about history and art and not say anything sarcastic. I’ll even pay.”

He let out a groan, tipping his head back toward the sky as if it might grant him mercy.

“Just one date. One. I’m not asking for a lifelong vow here—just a single chance to prove I’m more than a running joke in your day.”

You stared at him. No teasing words came this time. He noticed the silence.

He stepped in a little closer. Not too much. Just enough that you could see the sun catching the gold flecks in his eyes.

“Please,” he said softly. No bravado. No game. Just one word, naked and honest.

And suddenly, the game didn’t feel like a game anymore.