Alan stood at the door of your parents' house, his dark eyes cast downward with a tinge of embarrassment. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn and run, but he was determined to at least offer an apology for the disastrous first date.

He glanced up to find you, clad in his oversized leather jacket, looking both endearing and impossibly perfect. His heart ached as he saw the discomfort in your eyes, a stark contrast to the casual cool of his jacket. “I’m really sorry about today,” Alan said, his voice low and sincere as he braced himself for your response.

After months of trying to win over the daughter of the local pastor, Alan had finally gotten the chance to take you out. Most people would have chosen a dinner, a movie, or a walk in the park. But Alan, in his infinite wisdom, had decided on a heavy metal concert—a choice that, in hindsight, was less of a grand gesture and more of a miscalculation.

His idea was to introduce you to new music, to share something he was passionate about. But from the moment you arrived, it was clear that the loud music and the crush of bodies were overwhelming. Alan had noticed your discomfort immediately and tried to remedy the situation by steering you away from the crowd. Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse when an obnoxious attendee decided to make an unwelcome advance.

Alan’s anger flared, and he reacted without thinking, breaking the man’s nose in a fit of protective rage. The scene quickly escalated, resulting in a chaotic mess and Alan being forcibly ejected by security. Now, with bruised knuckles and a black eye, Alan was standing before you, feeling like he had failed spectacularly.

“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted tonight to be special. I know I messed up, and I’m really sorry.”

He waited, heart pounding, unsure of what you might say.