He checked the timehis phone.
It was enough to check his shop first and make sure everything was in order.
He stepped through.
Inside the shop, four loaves were now stacked on the shelf during his absence.
"Perfect," Noah grinned, before checking if anyone was in the alleyway for some quick sales.
After waiting for customers for around five minutes, during which no one was spotted, Noah decided it was time to make his way to the blind date.
...
Back on earth, Noah made his way to the bus stop.
Although he had a decent amount of money on him now, it was still nothing compared to all the loans he had taken.
'One step at a time, everything will fall in place…'
His eyes landed on a bicycle shop near the bus stop.
Looking at the timing of the bus, he had been unlucky to miss it, meaning he had to wait thirteen minutes before the next one would come.
'I might as well rent a bicycle. It will take me to my destination faster, which means I can get back to my shop quicker without spending much money,' He thought, making his way to the bicycle store.
The bell jingled as Noah pushed open the glass door of "Pedal Power."
The smell of rubber and machine oil hit him immediately. Bicycles of every shape, size, and color crowded the small shop—hanging from ceiling racks, standing in neat rows, propped against walls.
A price tag on a sleek carbon-fiber road bike made him choke.
$2,499? I could buy a car for that!
"Help you with something?" A bearded man in his forties emerged from behind a counter, wiping grease from his hands with a rag.
Noah glanced at his watch. "Do you rent bikes? Just need one for a couple hours."
The man—"Mike" according to his name tag—looked Noah up and down. "Sure do. What're you looking for? Mountain? Road? Hybrid?"
"Just something to get me across town. Nothing fancy."
Mike nodded toward a row of practical-looking bikes. "City cruisers. Sixteen bucks for two hours, fifty for the day."
Noah blinked. "That's steep for a rental."
"Quality costs. These aren't Walmart specials." Mike crossed his arms. "But they won't break down halfway to wherever you're going, either."
Noah checked the time again. The date with Sophia loomed closer, and Aunt Mei would never let him hear the end of it if he was late.
"Fine. Two hours."
Mike handed him a clipboard with a form. "ID and credit card for the deposit. Three hundred bucks hold, comes off when you return it."
Noah filled out the paperwork while Mike adjusted a blue hybrid bike to his height. The transaction was quick—almost painless until Mike reminded him that late returns incurred hefty fees.
"It's 10:15 now," Mike said, handing over the lock and key. "So I need to see this beauty back here by 12:15 sharp."
Noah secured the helmet under his chin. "Not a problem."
Five minutes later, he was pedalling through traffic, the cool breeze in his face. For the first time in years, he felt almost carefree.
Arriving at the café, Noah parked his bicycle and secured it with Mike's rental locks. He positioned it directly in front of the café windows where he could keep an eye on it.
Hundreds of dollars down the drain if this thing disappears.
He double-checked the lock and glanced at his watch. 10:58. Just in time.
At least I didn't screw that up.
The café was filled with mid-morning energy—espresso machines hissing, laptops clicking, weekend professionals pretending to work, whilst they just wanted to attract girls.
Noah spotted her immediately.
Sophia sat at a center table, straight-backed and poised, checking her phone.
His aunt hadn't exaggerated—she was good looking in a crisp white blouse and tailored blazer, her dark hair falling in a perfect curtain to her shoulders.
Eighty-four out of a hundred. Definitely.
Noah smoothed his shirt and approached. "Sophia? Hi, I'm Noah. Sorry if I kept you waiting."
Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she looked up.
"No problem."
But it was a problem. He could see it in the slight tightening around her mouth, the quick assessment as her gaze swept over him.
He'd already lost points, and they hadn't even ordered coffee.
Not a great start.
"Did you order, or should I order?" He gestured toward the counter.
"I haven't ordered."
Noah flagged down a barista, ordered an americano for himself and a vanilla latte for Sophia. Awkward silence stretched between them as they waited.
"So," Sophia folded her hands on the table. "Where did you study?"
"State University. Computer science."
"Oh." Her eyebrow twitched. Not one of the prestigious schools, clearly. "And your GPA?"
"Three point two."
Another flicker of disappointment crossed her face.
Why does this feel like a job interview?
"So, what do you work as?" Sophia took a delicate sip of her latte when it arrived.
Noah froze mid-sip. Here we go. "I'm currently unemployed. I don't work at any company."
Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed. The temperature between them dropped ten degrees.
"Are you applying for jobs?" She gave the question an artificial lightness.
"No. I stopped applying for jobs a few years ago. But I'm—"
Sophia stood up, gathering her purse.
The chair scraped against the floor, drawing glances from nearby tables.
"It was nice meeting you, Noah, but I don't think we can work. Bye."
She turned and walked out, heels clicking decisively against the hardwood floor.
She didn't even let me finish. Or pay for her coffee.
Noah sat alone, staring at the half-empty latte across from him. The barista approached, sympathy etched on his face.
"Rough one, man. Want the check?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"Plenty of fish in the sea," the barista offered, returning with the bill.
Noah forced a smile.
Outside, he unlocked his bicycle, mentally calculating how much of his magical bread money he'd just wasted on a seven-minute date.
As he straightened up, he caught Sophia watching him from the sidewalk, her expression shifting from surprise to annoyance.
She'd returned—remembering she'd left without paying—only to find him with a rental bicycle.
"You came on a bicycle?" Her voice carried across the street, loud enough to turn heads on the road. "God, I'm glad I left when I did. What a waste of my morning."
Noah swung his leg over the seat, dignity intact despite the heat rising in his cheeks.
He pedaled away, her indignant huff fading behind him.
But as he cycled through traffic, Noah realized something.
For the first time in years, rejection didn't sting as badly. He had a shop to run. Magical bread to sell.