DATE NUMBER ONE, THE PUBLIC HUMILIATION

(Ivy)

Date One was supposed to be a performance.

Instead it turned into the most confusing evening of my life.

East picked me up at seven, outside my cousin Juno's apartment where I was currently sleeping on a lumpy air mattress because my old place had a cheater, a traitor, and a cake stain.

I came down the stairs in a green dress I'd bought three weeks ago and never worn. It was fitted. It was dangerous. It was supposed to be armor.

East was leaning against his truck with his hands in his pockets.

He looked up.

And stopped.

I'm not exaggerating. The man literally forgot what he was going to say. His mouth opened a little, then closed again.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi."

"Is something wrong?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "No. You look. Fine."

"Fine."

"Good fine."

"Wow. Poetry."

He shook his head, laughing at himself. "Give me a second. I'm recovering."

Okay. That was a point for me.

He opened the passenger door and waited. I got in, trying very hard not to smile. The truck smelled like pine and mint and something warm that I realized was him. I rolled down the window to breathe.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"Campus Grill."

I groaned. "That's where the whole team eats on Fridays."

"Exactly."

"Dom will be there."

"That's the point."

"You're evil."

"I prefer strategic."

---

Campus Grill was packed. Loud music, big screens, the smell of fries and spilled beer. Half the hockey team was there. The other half were girls pretending not to look at the hockey team.

The second East walked in with me, the room changed. I felt it. Heads turned. Conversations dipped.

I hate being looked at. I spent three years standing behind Dom while people looked at him. I forgot how it felt.

My steps slowed.

East noticed. Of course he did.

"Hey," he said under his breath. "Look at me."

I did.

"You're allowed to be here," he said. "You're allowed to take up space. Okay?"

My throat tightened. "Where did you learn to say stuff like that?"

"I'm a deep person."

"You're a menace."

"Both can be true."

He offered me his arm. I took it.

We walked to a booth in the middle of the room. And there, three tables over, was Dom, with Sloane tucked right against his side. She wore a red top and a smile that looked like it hurt.

Dom saw us and went stiff.

Good.

East pulled out my chair. It was such a small thing. But I'd been dating a man for three years who never once did that. I'd opened every door myself.

I sat down and tried not to feel anything.

"What do you want to drink?" East asked.

"Water."

"Liar." He turned to the waitress. "She'll have a vanilla latte, extra foam, and a side of fries with the honey mustard. Don't let her say no."

I stared at him. "I didn't tell you that."

"You didn't have to."

"Have you been stalking me?"

"Only on weekends."

The waitress laughed. I kicked him under the table. He kicked back, gently, and then left his foot right there against mine.

I told myself it was part of the show.

We ordered. We talked. And here's the weird thing. He didn't perform at all. No loud fake laughing. No kissing my neck for show. No arm around my shoulders like a trophy.

He just asked me questions.

How was my sports marketing project going? Did I finish the pitch? Did my professor like the new angle I'd mentioned in the hallway last week?

"You remember that?" I asked.

"You said it loud enough for the whole hall."

"I was annoyed!"

"You were brilliant." He took a fry off my plate. "The angle about community fan engagement? That's real. Teams would pay for that."

I blinked.

Nobody had ever said that to me. Dom always changed the subject back to himself within thirty seconds. I had been so used to it that I stopped bringing things up.

Now here was East, chewing my fries, talking about my work like it was important.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"You're doing a face."

"I don't have a face."

"You have a very specific face."

"It's my normal face."

"It's your 'I'm secretly touched' face." He leaned closer. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

"I hate you."

"You said that already."

"It's still true."

"Keep going, I'm starting to enjoy it."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. A big, ugly, real laugh, the kind that makes your shoulders shake. And right at that second I realized I hadn't laughed like that in months.

Then a voice floated across the room.

"Wow, Ivy. You finally found someone who puts up with you."

I stopped laughing.

Dom had strolled over, one hand in his pocket, the other draped lazily over the back of our booth. He looked relaxed. But his eyes were hard.

"Cute," he said to East. "Bet she told you all about how she cries when she's stressed. And how she needs so much attention. Honestly, you're a brave man."

My face went hot.

I'd told him those things in private. At two in the morning. When I trusted him.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

East set down his fry slowly. Then he wiped his fingers on a napkin, took his time, and looked up at Dom with the calmest expression I'd ever seen.

"Funny thing about that," he said. "I like when she tells me stuff. It means she trusts me. You might want to try earning that."

Dom's smile slipped.

"Also," East continued, "I'd move your hand. You're touching our booth. It's making her uncomfortable."

"It's not making me uncomfortable," I said quickly.

"Okay, it's making me uncomfortable."

Somebody at the next table snorted into their drink.

Dom's hand fell away. His cheeks turned red as he glanced around. People were staring now. Not at me. At him.

"You think you're so smart," he muttered.

"I think I'm very smart," East said pleasantly. "But thanks for noticing."

Dom walked back to his table. He sat down hard. Sloane touched his arm and he shrugged her off.

I let out a shaky breath.

East turned to me. His whole face softened.

"You good?"

I nodded. Then shook my head. Then nodded again. "I don't know. I didn't expect you to do that."

"Do what?"

"Defend me. I thought you'd make a big scene. Kiss me in front of everyone."

"Would you have wanted that?"

"No."

"Then why would I do it?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

He wasn't humiliating me to hurt Dom. He was humiliating Dom by refusing to let him belittle me.

It was the difference between using someone and standing next to them.

And suddenly my chest was too tight.

"Eat your fries," East said gently. "They're getting cold."

So I did.

And somewhere between the last fry and the lemon tart he ordered without asking, with two forks, which he swore was a coincidence, I started laughing again. Real laughing. Easy. It was the best thing I'd eaten in months, sharp and sweet and a little bit dangerous, and I stole the last bite before he could.

When we finally walked out into the night, my cheeks hurt and my feet ached and I couldn't remember the last time I felt this light.

He walked me to the truck. He opened my door again.

I paused with one hand on the frame.

East was looking at me. Not at the street. Not at his phone. At me.

His expression was odd. Soft and a little stunned, like he was watching something he never expected to keep.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"Yeah." His voice dropped. "I just forgot how beautiful you look when you're happy."

The air left my lungs.

I stood there like a fool, holding a truck door, while a boy who was supposed to be my fake date said the most dangerous thing anyone had ever said to me.

And I realized, with horror, that I wasn't thinking about Dom at all.