The First 'Date'

A week had passed since the shocking family meeting, and Posie still felt the weight of it pressing against her chest. She had tried to focus on classes, on her friends, on anything that would distract her, but the announcement of her engagement to Professor Fox Reyes loomed over every thought.

Now, she had no choice but to face it.

Outside the Brooks residence, a sleek black car waited. Fox stood beside it, tall and impeccable, his dark hair neatly combed, posture perfect. Even the morning sunlight seemed to highlight his composure, as though he had been carved from marble.

Mateo’s sharp voice broke her hesitation. “She’s ready, Fox. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

Posie groaned inwardly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she muttered under her breath.

Micah, cheerful as always, waved at Fox. “I hope you survive the weekend.”

Fox’s expression didn’t change. He only nodded politely, as if the comment had been directed to someone else entirely.

Posie stepped toward him, adjusting her bag. “Fox,” she said quietly.

“Posie,” he replied, tone even, precise. No warmth. No trace of anything personal. Just… acknowledgement.

The drive to the restaurant was silent at first. Posie stared out the window, tracing the blur of passing trees and streetlights. The silence between them wasn’t peaceful — it was heavy, uncomfortable, filled with all the words neither dared to speak.

Finally, Posie broke the quiet. “So… how’s your week been?”

“Productive,” he replied smoothly, eyes on the road. “Structurals, grading, research. The usual.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah? My week’s been completely normal too,” she said, sarcasm sharp and bitter.

Fox’s eyes flicked toward her, calm and unreadable. “I didn’t ask for details.”

The words stung more than she expected. She turned her gaze back to the window, wishing she could disappear into the passing scenery.

At the restaurant, both families had arranged a polite dinner, smiles carefully measured, conversation flowing around them like a protective barrier. Posie and Fox sat across from each other, maintaining formal politeness, each one acutely aware of the other’s presence, yet refusing to acknowledge it.

Fox, of course, remained perfectly composed. He made small talk when necessary, kept his posture impeccable, and never lost the faint edge of authority he always carried. Posie, meanwhile, struggled to appear calm, every movement deliberate, her thoughts racing faster than she could follow.

At one point, Fox quietly adjusted her chair when she slouched slightly. Posie shot him a sharp look. He only gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though acknowledging the silent tension between them.

They talked, just enough to satisfy the families, but no more. Each word felt measured, controlled, and necessary. Neither laughed, neither smiled freely. Yet, beneath the carefully maintained exterior, both felt the strange pull of awareness — of proximity, of mutual understanding, of a situation they hadn’t chosen but now had to navigate together.

When dinner ended, the ride back was just as quiet. Posie exhaled slowly. “I suppose we survived,” she muttered.

Fox gave a small nod, expression unreadable. “We did what we had to.”

For both of them, that was the only truth that mattered. No warmth. No friendship. No affection. Only compliance.

And as the night wrapped around them, Posie realized that survival in this new world of family decisions and political alliances would be far more complicated than she had imagined.

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