Ethan couldn't focus for the rest of the day. His mind kept drifting back to his match with Lila. It felt like fate—or maybe just caffeine-fueled delusion. Either way, he was determined to impress her.
But first, he had to survive the chaos of his shared apartment.
The moment Ethan opened the door, a pillow flew past his head, followed by an irritated shout. "Stop throwing my stuff, Sam!"
"I'm not throwing your stuff," replied Sam, Ethan's perpetually sarcastic roommate, lounging on the couch with a game controller in hand. "I'm relocating it... violently."
Across the room, their third roommate, Mia, stood with her arms crossed. Her fierce expression was offset by the oversized cat hoodie she always wore. "Relocate your laundry first. The pile in the corner is developing sentience."
Ethan sighed as he stepped inside. "Guys, can we not turn the living room into a war zone? I have a—uh—romantic crisis to attend to."
Sam snorted. "You? Romantic? What happened? Did you trip in front of Clara again?"
"No," Ethan said defensively. "I matched with Lila on Tinder."
Mia froze mid-rant, her expression shifting to one of genuine shock. "Wait. The Lila? The barista who gives you extra whipped cream because she thinks you're pathetic?"
"She doesn't think I'm pathetic!" Ethan protested. "It's a sign. She likes me."
Sam put the game on pause and leaned forward. "Or she pities you. Either way, you better have a plan. Girls like her don't fall for guys who quote Shakespeare and call it flirting."
Ethan frowned. "Hey, Shakespeare is timeless. And besides, I'm meeting her tomorrow. She invited me to the café after her shift."
Mia raised an eyebrow. "You're meeting her there? In her natural habitat? You're doomed. She's probably got five other guys lined up for post-shift hangouts."
"Wow, thanks for the support," Ethan muttered.
Sam shrugged. "We're just being realistic. But hey, if you crash and burn, at least you'll have material for that terrible poetry you keep writing."
Ethan grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Sam. "You're the worst."
Mia grinned. "Relax. Just be yourself, Ethan. And by 'yourself,' I mean don't talk about Jane Austen or your 37-step theory on soulmates."
"Noted," Ethan said with a sigh.
As the banter died down, Ethan flopped onto the couch, clutching his phone. He couldn't shake the feeling that tomorrow's meeting with Lila wasn't going to go as planned. And he was right. Because across the city, Lila was having a conversation of her own—a conversation that would change everything.