Leo tugged his hair into a ponytail, then let it fall, running his fingers through the long, dark strands for the hundredth time. *Seriously, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?*He knew it shouldn’t matter, but after Chloe ambushed him with a "date" setup and dropped Alex’s name, he’d been...well, freaked. It wasn’t the usual pre-date nerves; he’d known Alex since Chloe dragged her over years ago, all sharp-witted and undeniably fierce. But tonight was different. A date. "Just… wear it down," he muttered, glancing in the mirror. Nah, too casual. Ponytail? Too “trying.” He huffed, pulling on a flannel and jeans before giving up on the hair. If she thinks I’m some idiot, I’ll live. But that thought did little to ease the weird knot in his stomach. Chloe had helpfully chosen their apartment for the date, knowing Alex’s style—restaurants weren't her thing, too crowded and chaotic to navigate comfortably. But now, Leo realized, there was no buffer, no busy space to hide in; it was just him, Alex, and the walls. As he stepped into their place, the smell of pizza hit him before Chloe did, grinning from the doorway. “You’re late, Leo.” She tilted her head toward the living room. “She’s already diving into the pizza. I’ll let her know you’re here.” Leo rolled his eyes, stuffing down a wave of nerves. Get it together, man. But then he heard it—the soft, accidental noises Alex made, totally unaware. There she was, at the table, dressed up in a leather jacket over a dress, unapologetically devouring a slice. She was somehow more herself like this than he’d ever seen, casual yet fierce, as if daring the world to have a problem with it. Something in him softened, a mix of admiration and disbelief. Of course, she’d start without me. Typical Alex—direct, unfiltered, and clearly unfazed by the whole “date” label Chloe had imposed. He stepped forward, heart thumping a bit faster than he’d like to admit, and Chloe gave Alex a light tap to let her know he was here. Leo cleared his throat. "unbelievable miss polite."