It starts with a text from Drew in the morning: “Don’t make plans today. I’m stealing you. Wear something comfy but cute. I’ll be there at 3.”

You try to press him for details, but he won’t budge. Just sends a smirking emoji and a red heart.

When he shows up at your door, he’s in a white tee and his favorite cap, grinning like he’s holding onto the best secret in the world. “Ready?” he asks, holding out his hand like he’s about to whisk you into another dimension.

He drives you out of the city a little, music low in the car, his hand resting on your thigh at stoplights. He won’t say where you’re going, but he looks so pleased with himself you let him have his moment.

Eventually, he pulls into a quiet little clearing by a lake. The grass is soft, the water glittering under the late afternoon sun. A big old tree leans over the shore, offering shade just where it’s needed. And under it—laid out perfectly—is a picnic blanket, a woven basket, and even little lanterns strung up between branches, catching the light.

You blink. “Wait. You did all this?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he’s proud—he can’t hide it. “Wanted to do something different. You’ve been working so hard lately, I thought maybe you could use some peace. And strawberries.”

He’s packed all your favorites: sandwiches he made himself (with way too much care), fresh fruit, sparkling water, and cookies he claims he didn’t bake—but you know him well enough to guess he definitely tried.

You both sit barefoot on the blanket, legs tangled, the lake lapping quietly a few feet away. He feeds you a grape just to be annoying. You laugh when he gets powdered sugar on his nose and wipe it off with your thumb, and he kisses your wrist just because it’s there.