Chapter 11
Alistair POV
I sat at my desk, still trying to shove what just happened into the deepest corner of my mind. My phone buzzed—Raman.
"Hey, Ally, what's up?" His voice came through, loud and casual.
"Fine," I said, maybe too quickly.
"You good? You sound… off."
"Yeah. Just work."
He didn't sound convinced, but he let it slide. "Anyway, I'm at the bar across from Evans Industries."
I frowned. "I thought you were staying home all day."
"Well, I decided to go on a blind date."
"What?"
"From that app Maren told me about. Figured I'd give it a shot—doesn't happen every day I get time off."
"So… how'd it go?" I leaned back in my chair.
"Didn't work out."
"Why? Catfish?"
"No, she was fine—looked like her picture. But she didn't want to split the bill. Called me stingy. Said the guy's supposed to pay for the first date."
I couldn't help laughing. "You actually asked her to split it? On a first date?"
"Why not? I didn't eat alone."
"And that's why you'll die single."
"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad."
I shook my head, smiling.
"Anyway, pick me up when you're done. You finish at nine, right?"
"Yeah."
"Alright. Gotta go—the match is starting."
The line went dead.
I put the phone down, rolled my shoulders, and forced my focus back to work. Emails were piling up, the printer was already running, and the smell of fresh ink mixed with the citrus cleaner from earlier. The rhythm of typing, printing, and sorting felt like a lifeline.
If I stayed busy, I wouldn't think about him. I couldn't.
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Raman's POV
The match was good—not great—but better than replaying my failed date in my head. I nursed my drink, eyes half on the screen, until something outside the bar window caught my attention.
She stepped out of the café across the street like she owned the sunlight. Pretty wasn't even the right word—there was something bright about her, like she'd been lit from the inside.
Alright, why not? Round two.
I slid off the barstool, tugged my hoodie straight, brushed off invisible lint. Not bad. Red hoodie, decent pants—still looked like I tried. I pulled off my cap, raked a hand through my hair, and crossed the street.
"Hi," I said with my best confident grin.
She turned, blinking at me. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah. I'm Raman." I held out my hand.
Her gaze flicked to it, then back to me. She smiled, but there was a wall behind it. "Sorry, I don't talk to strangers."
Before I could even react, a black car pulled up. She slipped inside like she belonged there. The driver—a sharp-looking guy—gave me one short look before facing forward and pulling away.
I stood there in the exhaust haze, coughing once. "Yeah… nice talking to you too,I have a car too" I muttered.
Hands stuffed in my pockets, hoodie back over my head, I walked slow toward the bar. The match was still playing, but now it just looked like a bunch of guys running in circles.