Steven’s POV

  I woke up earlier than usual, sunlight spilling through my blinds like the universe had set an alarm just for me.

  For once, I didn’t feel groggy.

  Actually… I felt kind of charged.

  Like my body knew today mattered.

  A date.

  It still felt surreal even thinking it.

  Me. Steven. On a date.

  I showered, brushed my teeth, and then spent an embarrassing amount of time staring into my closet like the right shirt could decide my entire future.

  I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard… but I also didn’t want to look like I’d rolled out of bed and accidentally wandered into romance.

  In the end, I went with my favorite heather-gray T-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. Casual. Safe. Decent.

  I grabbed a small paper bag from my desk and headed downstairs, already rehearsing how to act normal in my head.

  Act normal. Like you do this all the time. Like you are not one wrong sentence away from combusting.

  The scent of muffins and sugar cookies hit me the second I turned the corner.

  Of course.

  Mom was in the kitchen wearing her lucky red apron, whisking batter like she had been born with a mixing bowl in her hand. That apron had seen more flour than a bakery. I was pretty sure it had survived wars.

  “Morning, Mom,” I said, sliding into a chair.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” she replied without looking up. “Hungry?”

  I grabbed a sugar cookie and bit into it.

  Perfect. Like they always were.

  “These are amazing,” I said through a mouthful. “As usual.”

  “Glad you think so. Grab a muffin too.”

  I did. And as I chewed, an idea hit me. I opened the paper bag and started packing extra cookies and muffins.

  She’ll like these.

  Mom finally glanced over, eyebrow lifting. “Taking snacks somewhere?”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Kinda.”

  She smirked like she could see straight through me. “Someone special? A storm girl, perhaps?”

  I muttered something that was not a real word and stuffed the bag a little faster than necessary.

  “Well,” she said gently, “just make sure you both eat something real too.”

  Then, softer: “You know how much I love you, right?”

  I paused, throat tightening for no reason I wanted to admit. “Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

  She squeezed my hand—brief, warm, grounding.

  She was always more affectionate the closer Dad’s arrival date got. If this was her way of coping with stress, I didn’t mind being the one to “help” by eating her baking every day.

  I double-checked that I had everything—phone, wallet, keys—patting my pockets like that would magically prevent me from forgetting something. Then I decided to bring a crossbody for shopping purposes and slung it over my shoulder.

  As I headed for the door, my eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall.

  Tomorrow was circled in red.

  My stomach dipped.

  “Is… is Dad really coming back tomorrow?” I asked carefully.

  Mom paused mid-whisk. Just for a second.

  “Yes,” she said, no expression on her face. “When he says he is coming home, he always does.”

  Something about the way she said it—flat, final—made my stomach twist anyway. Like she was answering me, but also answering something she didn’t want to look at too closely.

  I didn’t push. I just forced my face into something that resembled a smile. “I might be out late tonight.”

  “Alright,” she said. “Just be safe.”

  Then, after a beat—like she could sense the nervous energy buzzing under my skin—she added, “Take a few extra cookies. Just in case.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said as I stuffed them into my bag for safekeeping.

  Then, almost like an afterthought, she said, “Love you.”

  A beat later, I managed, “Love you too, Mom.”

  I left the house with a grin that didn’t quite hide how fast my heart was beating.

  As I approached her apartment, I only knocked once before she answered. Aqua opened the door looking ready to go.

  She had on ripped jeans and a white-and-blue striped shirt knotted at the front like she’d done it without thinking—and somehow it looked effortless on her. Like she could throw on anything and make it look like it belonged.

  Her hair caught the morning light like it didn’t belong to Earth, and her smile—when she saw me—made my brain do that thing where it forgot how words worked.

  She stepped back and glanced into the floor-length mirror behind the door, smoothing her shirt like she was giving herself a quick final check.

  “Good morning,” I said, voice cracking like a middle schooler. “Ready?”

  Aqua turned her head toward me. Her eyes flicked over me—like she was admiring the view but trying not to make it obvious.

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  “Good morning, Steven,” she said softly. Her hands folded in front of her, fingers clasped. “Ready now?”

  She nodded, and when I offered my hand, she took it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  My heart immediately started acting like it had never been held together by bones before.

  ---

  We started our date by heading to the beach first.

  I thought it would be nice to go back to the place where everything had started.

  The ocean was calmer today, gentle waves rolling in like the world was trying to pretend it wasn’t capable of chaos.

  Aqua drifted toward the shoreline almost instinctively, collecting seashells like they were rare treasures. She talked quietly to herself while she did it—comparing colors, shapes, textures like she was cataloging different kinds of shells and ranking them in her head.

  I watched her more than the water.

  She was… different.

  Not in a bad way.

  In a way that made everything else feel kind of loud and messy compared to her.

  She moved like she didn’t care how anyone else saw her—like enjoying life in the moment was her only priority.

  Most girls I knew would be hyper-aware on a first date—how they looked, what they said, whether they were “doing it right.” Aqua wasn’t like that. She wasn’t performing. She was just… Aqua.

  And somehow, that made me want to be real too.

  I teased her a little, nudging her shoulder when she held up a shell like it was priceless. “You know you can buy those in gift shops, right?”

  She looked at me with mild offense. “These are better.”

  “Because you found them?”

  “Yes,” she said like that should’ve been obvious.

  And somehow… it was.

  When she offered me a couple—small, pale shells with faint pink inside—she did it like she was handing me something important.

  So I took them like that too.

  And when she turned back to the sand, I quietly slipped them into my pocket for safekeeping, like if I didn’t, the world might steal them back.

  ---

  Street food came next.

  A little place near the boardwalk where the air always smelled like fried dough and salt and sugar, like summer had a permanent lease in that area.

  We shared a basket of something covered in powdered sugar. I ate too fast and ended up with sauce—again—on my nose.

  Aqua didn’t even hesitate.

  She reached up, thumb brushing my face, and wiped it off like she’d done it a hundred times.

  My brain stopped.

  My body stopped.

  Time stopped.

  “You… had something,” she said calmly.

  “Right,” I squeaked. Like an idiot.

  Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile too wide.

  I tried to act normal afterward. I really did.

  But my face felt hot for like the next ten minutes.

  As we walked, Aqua paused when she spotted a little arcade shop tucked along the boardwalk. The kind with flashing lights and stuffed animals in the window and a sign that promised fun in an aggressive amount of neon.

  And right beside it—half hidden behind a poster—was a photo booth.

  Aqua leaned closer, studying the curtain like it might bite her.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “A photo booth,” I said, trying not to grin. “You sit inside and it takes pictures of you. Like… instant memories.”

  She blinked slowly. “A memory… on paper?”

  “Basically,” I said. “Do you want to try it?”

  She looked uncertain, then curious. “Yes.”

  My stomach flipped.

  We stepped inside, and the little booth smelled like plastic and old pennies. Aqua sat stiffly at first, hands folded, like she thought she was about to take a test.

  I slid in beside her and pulled the curtain closed.

  The screen blinked to life, showing our faces.

  Aqua stared at it like she was seeing a new kind of magic.

  “That’s… us,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Okay, it’s going to count down. Just look at the camera.”

  She nodded, still serious.

  The countdown started.

  Three.

  Aqua stared straight ahead like a royal portrait.

  Two.

  I leaned slightly closer.

  One.

  The flash popped.

  Aqua blinked hard afterward, startled, like she hadn’t expected light to attack her.

  I laughed, and she looked at me, mildly offended again. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “You just looked… very official.”

  Her brows knitted, then her expression softened like she understood the teasing tone, and her mouth curved just slightly.

  Second picture.

  I tried to smile normally.

  I failed. It came out as a half-grin, half-panicked “don’t ruin this” face.

  Third picture.

  Aqua tilted her head toward me—tiny, almost hesitant—and then, like she decided in the last second that she wanted to try being normal about it… she leaned in closer.

  Our shoulders touched.

  My entire body short-circuited.

  Fourth picture.

  I didn’t even think.

  I lifted a hand and gently tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  The flash caught her eyes mid-blink, soft and surprised.

  And the booth whirred.

  A strip of photos slid out.

  Then another.

  I pulled both free and stared down.

  It was us.

  Really us.

  Not in my imagination. Not in a dream.

  Aqua reached for one carefully like it was fragile.

  “We can keep these?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We each get one.”

  “So we can both remember,” she said softly.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  Aqua stared down at hers like it was treasure… then, after a beat, she offered it back to me.

  “Can you hold it?” she asked quietly, like she trusted me to keep it safe.

  My chest tightened in the best way.

  “Yeah,” I said, slipping both strips into my crossbody for safekeeping. “I’ve got it.”

  “I’m having fun,” she added, voice quiet but certain.

  “Me too,” I admitted.

  ---

  After the boardwalk, we made the normal stop.

  Grocery store.

  Which—on paper—should not be romantic.

  But something about pushing a cart beside her, walking through rows of colorful fruit and shelves of too many options… felt weirdly intimate.

  Like we were playing at something real.

  Aqua didn’t read labels like a normal person.

  She didn’t care about ingredients.

  She cared about the pictures.

  Bold colors. Shiny boxes. Smiling mascots. Fruit that looked like it had been edited to perfection.

  She wandered from aisle to aisle like she was in a museum made for kids, picking things up just to stare at the front like the packaging was the point.

  “This one is… pretty,” she said softly, turning a cereal box back and forth, studying the bright cartoon tiger like it was an ancient symbol.

  “It’s cereal,” I said.

  She frowned slightly. “It looks like a toy.”

  “It kind of does,” I admitted. “But it’s food. Technically.”

  “Technically,” she repeated, suspicious.

  I tossed it into the cart anyway. “We’ll get safe options too.”

  She leaned over the cart as if she was inspecting my choice like a judge.

  Meanwhile, a memory popped into my head—Mom at the kitchen counter, flipping over containers and reading every label like she could fight off illness with sheer suspicion.

  Katie was the opposite.

  Katie would eat anything, shrug, and say she was still young enough to burn through it before it mattered. Like her metabolism was an unpaid bodyguard.

  Aqua was… neither.

  Aqua was staring at the pictures like she was deciding which ones felt friendliest.

  We filled the cart slowly: fruit, bread, soup, tea, eggs, a few frozen meals for nights she didn’t want to cook. She lingered longest in front of the tea aisle, eyes moving across flavors like she was choosing spells.

  “You like green tea,” I said.

  “Yes,” she replied. “It tastes… calm.”

  That might have been the most Aqua sentence I’d ever heard.

  I smiled. “Good thing we’re getting you some today, then.”

  Aqua nodded, taking another look at the box like she was already pleased. “Mm-hm.”

  I grabbed honey without thinking and set it in the cart. Then paused.

  Was that too couple-y?

  Too domestic?

  Aqua didn’t question it.

  She just nodded once like it belonged there.

  And for some reason, that made me feel stupidly… proud.

  We were in the produce section when it happened.

  An older lady beside us—gray hair in a neat bun, floral purse tucked under her arm—watched us for a second with a soft smile.

  Then she said, deliberately loud enough for us to hear, “Aw. You two are such a cute couple.”

  My soul left my body.

  I gripped the cart like it was the only thing keeping me upright. My face went hot instantly—like the grocery store lights had turned into the sun.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  Because denying it felt wrong.

  Like it would make Aqua feel… small. Embarrassed.

  But agreeing felt too big.

  Too soon.

  We were still… testing the water.

  In my mind, at least.

  I glanced at Aqua, expecting her to look confused or uncomfortable.

  Instead, she smiled.

  Just a little.

  And she nodded once.

  Like… yes.

  Like she was confirming it.

  The old lady’s smile widened as if she’d just witnessed something sweet and sacred and could die happy now.

  Aqua nudged my shoulder gently. Not hard. Just enough to bring me back into my body.

  “Come,” she said softly. “We still need food.”

  I swallowed. Forced my voice to work. “Right. Food.”

  My heart didn’t calm down for the rest of the aisle.

  By the time we left the store, the sun was already starting its slow descent. The bags cut into my fingers, but I didn’t mind. Aqua carried a couple too, even though I insisted she didn’t have to.

  “I can help,” she said simply.

  And… I let her.

  We dropped the groceries at her apartment—putting them away quickly—so she wouldn’t have to carry them later, and then I gave her my best be-casual smile.

  “Okay,” I said. “Now I get to show you the surprise.”

  Her eyes lit up instantly. “A surprise?”

  “Yep.”