Felicity's POV.
By Day Four, I was starting to suspect Alex wasn't just dating me—he was secretly training me for a marathon. Not the running kind, though. No, this was far worse: the romantic endurance kind.
Day One had been a fancy dinner date at that cozy restaurant where he blew half his wallet on me while trying to act casual. Spoiler: he absolutely was not casual.
Day Two was all coffee and books at the library café—except Chris decided to hover around, doing his best "let me ruin this date" routine.
And Day Three? Cooking dinner together. Which sounded cute until there was flour in my hair, sauce all over his shirt, and the oven timer shrieking and nearly giving me a heart attack like a banshee straight out of a horror movie.
Now it was Day Four, and Alex had declared it "outdoor adventure day." His words, not mine. Which is how I ended up standing at the edge of a rowing boat on the college lake, glaring at the boy like he'd just asked me to swim across the Atlantic.
"Hop in," Alex said, smiling like this was the easiest thing in the world. His eyes were bright, his hair messy from the wind, his sleeves rolled up in that ridiculously unfair way that made my brain try not to explode.
"Hop in?" I echoed. "Alex, it's a boat. A wobbly piece of floating wood. Do I look like someone who's auditioning for Pirates of the Caribbean?"
He laughed, stepping closer and offering his hand. "Relax, Felicity. I won't let you fall."
Dangerous words. Because my heart already was falling. I climbed in with as much grace as a baby giraffe, wobbling so hard I nearly tipped us both into the water. He caught me, steadying me with strong hands on my waist, and for a second—just one—the world went quiet.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
No. Absolutely not. My brain was fried. My pulse was a drumline. And somewhere deep down, I hated that he was being so gentle, so careful, so… different from Chris.
"Fine," I muttered, pulling away like nothing happened. "Let's row before I regret this."
>>>>>
Alex's POV.
She had no idea. Felicity had no idea how much she was undoing me. Every stumble, every sarcastic comeback, every nervous glance—it was torture and bliss rolled together.
Day Four was supposed to impress her. Be calm, scenic, romantic. I'd practiced rowing last week so I wouldn't look like an idiot. But the truth? I wasn't thinking about rowing anymore. I was thinking about her laugh when she nearly fell, the way her hand brushed mine when we steadied the oars, and how badly I wanted to close the space between us.
But I couldn't. Not yet. Not while Chris was still in the picture, hovering like a storm cloud.
So instead, I rowed. I kept my smile easy. And when she finally relaxed, letting her head tip back to feel the sun on her face, I thought—maybe, just maybe, I had a chance.
>>>>>
Felicity's POV.
Day Five. Day Five. If Alexander had an Olympic medal for enthusiasm, he'd have twenty-four by now.
"This," he announced as we stood outside a glass conservatory that looked straight out of a fairy-tale garden magazine, "is stop number one on today's adventure."
I narrowed my eyes. "Adventure? Or torture?"
Alex smirked, brushing imaginary dust off his blazer. "That depends entirely on whether you've got taste."
Inside the conservatory, flowers bloomed in impossible colors, the air warm and fragrant like we'd stepped into a tropical dream. Couples strolled hand in hand, children ran between fountains, and there I was—standing next to Alex, who had the audacity to pull a pair of binoculars from his bag.
I blinked. "Please tell me you're not—"
"Birdwatching," he cut in, handing me a matching pair with a grin so boyishly earnest I couldn't even be mad. "Don't knock it until you've tried it, Felicity. Besides, it's romantic."
"Romantic?" I raised a brow. "Staring at birds while I slowly lose the will to live?"
He chuckled, leaning close enough that his cologne mixed with the garden air and made me dizzy. "You're missing the point. It's about noticing the little things. The details everyone else overlooks."
Which, of course, was when I noticed his hand brushing dangerously close to mine, his fingers teasing the space between us like a dare.
And maybe—just maybe—I didn't move away.
"Fine," I muttered, lifting the binoculars to my eyes. "But if I get pooped on, you're dead."
>>>>>
Alex's POV.
She looked ridiculous. Adorable, but ridiculous. Holding those binoculars like they might explode at any second.
I pretended to focus on a parrot squawking from a branch, but truthfully, all I could see was her reflection in the glass, sunlight tangling in her hair.
Steady, Alex. Don't blow this. Day Five had to outshine day Four. The competition wasn't fair—I knew Christopher was lurking somewhere, waiting for me to slip. But I wasn't going to. Not today.
"You know," I said casually, lowering my binoculars, "this is technically a date."
Felicity snorted. "Technically, this is me staring at birds while you pretend this is romantic."
"Semantics." I grinned. "But I'm still calling it our first official date."
Her cheeks pinked, though she rolled her eyes hard enough to break glass. "Alex…"
"What?" I leaned closer, letting my voice drop. "You don't like the sound of that?"
For a second, just a second, her lips parted like she might answer. Then—Crash.
The sound echoed across the conservatory. We both turned. A waiter had dropped a tray of glasses near the café section. Totally innocent. Totally normal.
Except—In the distance, just outside the glass walls, I caught a flash of movement. Dark coat. Familiar stance. Arms folded like he owned the place. Christopher. Of course he was here.
>>>>>
Felicity's POV.
If I thought Alex was flustered before, seeing Christopher lurking outside the conservatory glass turned him into a storm barely held together by a smile.
"Don't look," Alex hissed, which naturally made me look.
And there he was. Christopher. Standing with the kind of simmering calm that made it very clear he wasn't just "passing by." No, this was deliberate. Watching. Judging. Planning.
I swallowed. Why does he always look like that? Like he knows something about me I don't even know myself?
Alex nudged me forward quickly. "Ignore him. Today's ours, not his."
But the problem was—I couldn't ignore him. Not fully. Because even as Alex cracked jokes and tugged me deeper into the conservatory, part of me felt Christopher's gaze still burning through the glass.
Like a promise. Like a threat. Or maybe—like both.
>>>>>
Alex's POV.
I was losing her, I could feel it. Her laughter dimmed, her focus flickering every time his shadow loomed nearby.
No. Not today. I straightened, plastered on my brightest grin, and slipped my arm around her shoulders before she could protest. "Come on," I said, pulling her toward the fountain in the center. "Every perfect date needs a wish."
She arched a brow. "A wish?"
"Yeah." I pressed a coin into her palm. "Close your eyes, throw it in, and wish for whatever your heart wants."
Her lashes fluttered closed, her hand tightening around the coin. For a moment, I let myself believe—just maybe—that wish had something to do with me.
Then I heard it. A low chuckle. Outside. Christopher. And suddenly I wasn't sure if Felicity's wish would ever belong to me—or if she'd already made it the moment she met him.