Well. This hadn't gone to plan.

On a romantic scale of one to ten, Damian was a solid negative infinity. So, upon finding the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the sight of a certain someone, he'd gone to his family for advice. He'd been told to dress up. Which he had. In a suit and tie. He'd been told to bring gifts. Which he had. Flowers and chocolates, plus a teddy bear. He had thought the bear was rather childish, but his brothers had insisted, so he'd relented.

He'd been told to "be himself," which was the single most asinine piece of advice he'd ever heard, because if he'd thought that was a good idea, he wouldn't have asked for help in the first place. But all right. Fine. He'd showed up at the park with a scowl. And he'd waited. And waited. And waited. And then it'd started to rain, and he'd thought about leaving, but what if his date was trying to get there and had gotten held up? He'd had to stay.

So he'd stayed. And the rain had grown heavier. And his mood had soured further. The downpour had soaked his suit and the bear, ruined the box of chocolates, destroyed the flowers, and turned the park into mud central. Drenched, muddy, annoyed, and ready to stab the next person who spoke to him, he'd left, returned home, and was not sulking, no matter what his brothers claimed.

The worst part? He'd taken out his phone to text his flaky crush, only to realize he'd gotten the dates mixed up—the date was supposed to be yesterday. Damian, who'd thought he'd been stood up, had actually been the one doing the standing up. And his crush had never gotten back in touch. Had he missed his chance forever?

"This will sound like an excuse," he texted nervously after hesitating for a long moment, "but I thought our date was today." He attached a photo of his collection of soggy gifts. "Can we speak? In person? I have a wet bear for you. And wet chocolates. And partially destroyed wet flowers."