Episode 4

I nodded, pretending to be focused on my toast. *Cool. That means I’m off the hook, right?*

Then she added, “So I told him you’d bring the dress over to his place.”

I choked.

“You *what*?!”

Mom didn’t even blink. “You’re not doing anything today, right? I already finished the dress. It just needs to be tried on, and he’ll let me know what adjustments to make.”

“You could’ve asked me first!” I protested, eyes wide.

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s just a quick drop-off. You’ll be in and out. Besides, he already knows you.”

“Knows me?!” I was spiraling. “He knows me as the guy who opened the door in a *skirt*! That’s literally my origin story to him!”

She gave me a sweet smile. “That’s why this’ll be a good chance to redeem yourself.”

I groaned, dropping my head to the table. “This is character assassination…”

Mom slid the neatly packaged dress across the table toward me. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just smile. Maybe even brush your hair for once.

Before leaving the house, I stood in front of the mirror for a solid ten minutes.

Black jeans. Check. Plain fitted tee. Check. Jacket that screams “definitely not into princess skirts.” Double check.

I even styled my hair.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe I *do* know. Maybe I just wanted to look… normal. Or cooler. Or just... *not like last time.*

I stared at myself and nodded slowly. *Okay. Manly. Confident. Definitely not a mannequin wearing skirts. Got it.*

I picked up the carefully wrapped package from the table—frilly, pastel, sparkly—and let out a long sigh.

*This is ironic.*

Mom waved from the living room. “Good luck, sweetheart! Be polite!”

I stepped out the door with the dress package under my arm and all the confidence I could fake.

*Alright, Mr. Hart. Time for you to meet the *real* me.*

*

I stood outside, staring up at the tall building in front of me.

*Whoa… this is where he lives?*

It was one of those modern, glass-and-concrete types that looked way too fancy to exist in real life. The kind where you needed a keycard just to breathe in the lobby. Definitely not the kind of place I expected from a guy who randomly asked my mom for a princess dress.

*He must have a really good job. Or rich parents. Or maybe he’s secretly a tech CEO in disguise…*

I adjusted the package under my arm, suddenly feeling like I didn’t belong. The air smelled like money and elevator buttons I wasn’t allowed to press.

Still, I walked through the front doors like I belonged there, nodding at the security guard who barely looked up from his desk. Cool. Unbothered. Totally not a delivery boy with gender-anxiety flashbacks.

I took a deep breath and headed toward the elevator.

*Okay. You’re not here to impress anyone. Just deliver the dress. Say some polite stuff. Leave. Simple.*

But part of me couldn’t stop wondering...

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