It was a rare day off—no classes, no practices, no early alarms or team meetings. Just Jake and Gaby, finally able to breathe. Jake had made plans, too. Not just his usual, casual kind of plan, but a real one: a dinner date. He picked a cozy restaurant in downtown Lexington, one of those dimly lit, candle-on-the-table kind of spots. Gaby dressed up in a soft, fitted sweater and jeans, hair curled just a little, and Jake wore a button-up for once—even if he kept tugging at the collar every few seconds.

As they sat down, menus in hand, Gaby smiled across the table. “This is actually really cute,” she said, her voice warm.

Jake grinned. “I know, right? Fancy napkins and everything. I feel like I should know what a ‘foie gras’ is.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “You don’t need to know. Just order what you want.”

When the waiter came, Jake ordered pasta, but when it was Gaby’s turn, he leaned in and said, loud enough for the whole table beside them to hear, “She’ll take your most romantic dish. Something that says ‘I’m dating the funniest man alive.’”

Gaby gave him a look. “Babe.”

He smirked. “What?”

“Stop,” she said, half-laughing. “This is supposed to be romantic.”

Jake leaned forward with a soft grin. “It is romantic. You’re here. I’m here. Candlelight. Bread basket. That’s love, baby.”

She rolled her eyes again, but her smile lingered. “You’re such a goof.”

“And you love it.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. “I do. But just let me be in my romantic girl era for one night.”

Jake nodded dramatically. “Say less.”

He lasted exactly seven minutes before whispering, “That waiter totally looks like the guy from Shrek.”

Gaby burst out laughing. “You’re impossible.”