Chapter 3: Texts, Teases, and First Moves
The next morning, Ayla woke to the sound of rain. She groaned, reaching blindly for her phone on the nightstand. As her eyes adjusted to the screen's glow, she noticed a new text message:
Caden:
Looks like it's raining again. Should I grab my umbrella or would that be overkill?
Ayla grinned, sitting up in bed. She didn't know if it was the message or the memory of last night that made her stomach flutter, but she wasn't complaining. She quickly typed back:
Ayla:
Definitely overkill. Rain or not, you're stuck with me for dinner.
His reply came almost immediately:
Caden:
Good. I was worried I'd have to stage another umbrella rescue. 7 PM tonight?
Ayla bit her lip to suppress a smile. This was already starting to feel like… something.
By the time 7 PM rolled around, Ayla was standing in front of the mirror, nervously adjusting her sweater for the third time. It's just dinner, she reminded herself. Not a date. Right?
The thought didn't stop her from switching to her favorite pair of boots at the last second.
When she stepped outside, Caden was already waiting near the entrance to her apartment building, leaning casually against a lamppost like he'd been born to look effortlessly cool.
"Right on time," he said, straightening as she approached.
Ayla crossed her arms, giving him a mock-suspicious look. "Do you always show up ten minutes early to look impressive, or is that just for me?"
"Just for you," he admitted with a grin. "The lamppost was a nice touch, right?"
Ayla laughed. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you're still here."
They ended up at a small Italian restaurant tucked away from the main streets. It had that warm, intimate vibe—the kind of place where the wine flows easily, and the waiters are on a first-name basis with regulars.
"So," Caden said, after they placed their orders. "Here's the real question—do you think rain is romantic, or does it just make everything inconvenient?"
Ayla narrowed her eyes, pretending to mull it over. "That depends. If you're sitting in traffic and late for work? Inconvenient. But if you meet a stranger who offers to share his umbrella… well, that's just good writing."
Caden chuckled. "Glad to hear I'm contributing to your life's plot."
Their banter carried them through appetizers and into the main course. Ayla found herself relaxing, the tension of the day melting away under Caden's easy humor and sharp wit.
"So what's the biggest disaster you've had on a date?" Caden asked, twirling his fork through a plate of pasta. "Come on—everyone has one."
Ayla groaned. "Oh, that's easy. I once went out with a guy who told me—mid-date, mind you—that he was technically still married. But, you know, 'emotionally separated.'"
Caden winced. "Oof. That's brutal."
"And the best part?" Ayla continued, smirking. "He tried to convince me it wasn't a big deal by saying, 'It's just a piece of paper.'"
Caden shook his head. "What a charmer. How'd you escape?"
"I faked a phone call," Ayla admitted. "Said my 'friend' had an emergency."
Caden grinned. "Classic. And you haven't looked back since?"
"Nope. I'm fully committed to the fake-phone-call method of dating now."
"Well, if I say something stupid tonight," Caden said, leaning in slightly, "you can just tell me your apartment's on fire."
Ayla laughed. "Deal."
The conversation continued to flow, light and natural, but somewhere between the jokes and easy smiles, Ayla began to notice the small things about Caden—like how his eyes softened when he listened or the way he unconsciously tapped his fingers against the table when he was thinking.
And Caden, for his part, seemed equally tuned into her, asking questions that weren't just polite but genuine.
"So… why books?" he asked at one point. "Out of all the things you could do, what made you choose a bookstore?"
Ayla paused, surprised by the question. "I guess it's the quiet," she said after a moment. "Books don't rush you. They let you take your time."
Caden nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. It's nice, having a space where things don't have to move so fast."
"Exactly." Ayla smiled, grateful that he seemed to get it.
The conversation slowed for a moment, settling into a comfortable silence as they both sipped their drinks. Outside, the rain drizzled softly against the windows, as if it was content to wait for them to finish.
By the time they left the restaurant, the rain had picked up again, splashing against the pavement in steady beats. Caden popped open his umbrella with a flourish.
"Care for a ride, Miss Creatively Challenged Umbrella?"
Ayla laughed, stepping under the umbrella beside him. "You really like that nickname, don't you?"
"I think it suits you."
They walked slowly, neither in a hurry to end the night. The city lights reflected off the wet streets, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.
"So," Caden said casually, "what do you think? Was this a proper 'normal' way to hang out?"
Ayla pretended to think it over. "It was… surprisingly enjoyable. But I think I prefer the umbrella rescues."
"Noted." Caden grinned. "I'll keep one on hand, just in case."
They stopped in front of Ayla's building, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, standing under the same umbrella while the rain drummed softly around them.
"Thanks for tonight," Ayla said, her voice softer than she intended.
"Anytime," Caden replied, his eyes lingering on hers.
There was a moment—a tiny flicker of possibility—that passed between them. And then, just like that, Caden stepped back, giving her one last grin.
"Goodnight, Ayla."
"Goodnight, Caden."
As she watched him disappear into the rain, Ayla felt a warmth settle in her chest—something she hadn't felt in a long time.
And just like that, she knew: This wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.