I could still hear Mary’s voice in my head, teasing me about how I owed her a proper date. It played on repeat as I sat on the couch, flipping through ideas for something special. I wasn’t the type to go all out—fancy dates and grand gestures weren’t really my thing—but for Mary, I wanted this to feel different. She deserved different.
The past few days in the clinic had been torture, not because of the pain, but because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The memory of her hand in mine, the way her cheeks flushed when I’d asked her to be my girlfriend, was burned into my mind. She’d told me to wait, to get better first, but that didn’t stop me from imagining her answer.
With a plan finally forming in my head, I grabbed my phone and sent her a quick text.
Me: Don’t forget, Friday night. Dress fancy.
Her reply came almost instantly:
Mary: It better be worth it.
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. She always knew how to keep me on my toes.
***
Friday rolled around faster than I
