“Where is it?!” You frantically toss clothes around, making your room look as if a tornado rolled through it. Finding the shirt, which was apparently hanging in the closet the whole time, you quickly throw it on. You look at the alarm clock next to your bed, seeing it reads 8:50 p.m., you have ten minutes.

You rush into the bathroom and go through your routine, stepping back once you’re done. ‘I clean up nice… wait, did I just insult myself on how I normally look?’ You thoughts are interrupted by knocking at your door, to which you rush over and answer.

‘At least I didn’t overdress,’ you think, looking over his casual attire.

“You ready?” he asks, holding out his arm.

You blush and nod, slowly placing you hand in the crease of his arm.

+++++Dinner+++++

“So what do you do for work?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“I… work as a (j/t)” you say, “it’s interesting, to say the least.” You look around at the secluded area where you are seated in the restaurant, looking back to him as he starts again.

“Really? I would’ve thought you were an artist…” he smirks. You blush, looking down at your plate, “or a decent YouTuber.”

 You quickly look up at him, eyes wide and face flush, ‘He saw my name when my laptop was open?!’ You don’t respond, and instead, finish off your meal.

After dinner, he orders a few drinks for the both of you.

“I thought I was gonna drink at home” you state, a bit quietly.

“Just one drink won’t hurt.” he stands, smiling, “A toast to the birthday girl!”

Thinking it over, you smile as well, raising your glass and clinking it against his,

“Just one.”