By Friday evening, Crystal was sprawled on her couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, reruns playing on TV and her laptop open beside her with untouched work emails glaring back at her. She had been trying to concentrate, but her mind kept wandering back to that coffee with Justin.
The way he listened.
The way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
It had been a long time since she felt that spark genuine and unexpected.
Her phone buzzed.
Justin Miller:
Hey stranger. I survived the server meltdown. Barely.
Still up for that dinner this weekend?
Crystal stared at the message, her lips curling into a smile before she could stop herself. She considered pretending to wait a few minutes before replying but she didn't. There was no point in games.
Crystal Gomez:
Surviving is impressive. Dinner sounds good. Saturday night?
Justin Miller:
Perfect. Pick you up at 7?
Crystal Gomez:
I'll text you my address. I'm trusting you're not secretly a weirdo.
Justin Miller:
Debatable. But I'll try to be on my best behavior.
Also… wear something casual. No ball gowns this time.
Crystal laughed out loud.
Saturday night came with a rush of butterflies. She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the soft beige top she'd paired with high waisted jeans and ankle boots. Her curls fell naturally over her shoulders, and she had just a touch of lip gloss on. Nothing too flashy. Just… her.
When the doorbell rang at exactly 6:59 PM, her heart skipped a beat.
She opened it to find Justin, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand and smiling that crooked, boyish grin that disarmed her every time.
"Hi," he said simply.
"Hi," she echoed, cheeks warming.
"For you," he said, handing her the bouquet.
"They're beautiful," she said, and stepped aside to let him in while she grabbed a vase from the kitchen.
Justin looked around. "You have great taste. Cozy but stylish."
"I try," she said, returning with the flowers arranged. "So where are we going?"
He held out his arm. "Somewhere real."
She expected a trendy rooftop restaurant or some private five star dining club.
What she didn't expect was a local food truck parked under string lights in a cozy corner of the city, surrounded by a scattering of benches, picnic tables, and a small live band playing acoustic covers.
The food truck had a handwritten sign: Luca's Italian Street Eats. The aroma of garlic and fresh basil hung in the air.
"You brought me to a food truck?" Crystal asked with a surprised smile.
"I promised casual," Justin said. "This place has the best handmade pasta I've ever tasted. And I've been to Rome."
She grinned. "Well, you've officially won points for creativity."
They ordered fresh ravioli and bruschetta, grabbed a bottle of red wine from the neighboring booth, and sat on a wooden bench with flickering candlelight in jars scattered around them.
"This is perfect," she said, taking her first bite. "Okay… wow. You weren't lying. This is divine."
"I never joke about pasta," Justin said with mock seriousness.
They ate, talked, and laughed, letting conversation drift from work horror stories to favorite movies and childhood memories. Crystal found herself completely at ease, like she wasn't trying to impress him just enjoy him.
As the night wore on and the stars peeked out overhead, the soft music from the band shifted to a slow tune. A few couples stood and began to sway under the lights.
"Dance with me?" Justin asked.
Crystal's eyes widened. "Here? In the middle of a parking lot?"
"Why not?" he said, already standing and offering his hand. "We danced the first time we met. Seems appropriate."
She hesitated, then gave in and took his hand. "Fine. But if I trip, you're catching me."
He pulled her close, and they moved slowly under the warm light. Her cheek rested lightly against his chest as the music wrapped around them. It wasn't a fancy ballroom but it was somehow more magical.
"I'm really glad you said yes to tonight," he whispered.
"So am I," she said softly.
A moment passed before he gently pulled back, meeting her eyes. The air between them thickened with tension gentle, nervous, expectant.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, the kind that made the world stop moving for a second.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't forced.
It was just… right.
When they finally broke apart, Crystal felt breathless. Warm. Light.
"Well," she whispered. "That's definitely going in my top five first dates."
Justin laughed, brushing a curl from her face. "Wait until date two. I've got even more food trucks up my sleeve."
She smiled, resting her forehead against his for a beat.
Tonight, under string lights and street music, something fragile and beautiful had started to grow. It was early new but it was real.
And neither of them wanted to let it slip away.
By the time Justin pulled up in front of Crystal's apartment, the city had quieted into a soft lull. Streetlamps flickered, and the occasional sound of tires on wet pavement hummed in the background. The buzz of the night still clung to Crystal's skin like warm velvet.
Neither of them was quite ready to say goodnight.
"Thanks for tonight," Crystal said as she unbuckled her seatbelt, her voice hushed as if she didn't want to break the delicate bubble between them.
"Don't thank me yet," Justin said with a small smile. "I'm expecting you to write a five star Yelp review about my food truck date skills."
She chuckled. "Oh, trust me, I'd give you six if I could."
He laughed but fell quiet as she turned to face him. Their eyes met, and for a second, it was just the two of them, wrapped in the silence, bathed in the streetlight's glow.
"I don't usually feel this way so quickly," Crystal admitted. "This… feels different."
Justin leaned back in his seat, watching her. "It does. It's scary how easy it is with you."
Crystal hesitated. "You know, I was in a relationship about a year ago. Nothing serious at first. But when it started to feel real, he backed out. Said I was 'too much of everything.' Too ambitious. Too intense. Too independent."
Justin frowned. "That sounds like someone afraid of a strong woman."
"Maybe," she said, playing with the hem of her sleeve. "But it stuck with me."
He reached out and gently touched her hand. "Crystal, don't ever shrink to fit someone else's comfort zone. The moment you do, you lose yourself. And I happen to like every 'too much' part of you."
Her breath caught, not from his touch, but from the sincerity in his words. It wasn't flattery. It was truth.
"I meant to ask," he added, "do you like late night walks?"
She blinked. "Now?"
He grinned. "It's only midnight."
"You're lucky I'm not wearing heels," she said with mock irritation.
Minutes later, they were strolling down a quiet street lined with trees, the kind that swayed in the breeze like old souls whispering secrets. The night air was cool but not cold, and their hands brushed a few times before Justin simply took hers, lacing their fingers together.
"So, what did little Justin want to be when he grew up?" Crystal asked, bumping his shoulder playfully.
He smiled. "A pilot. Then a firefighter. Then a magician. Eventually settled on 'mad tech genius.'"
"I can actually picture the magician part," she teased. "You probably had a little wand and everything."
"I did," he admitted. "And a rabbit named Steve. He bit me."
Crystal burst into laughter, gripping his hand tighter. "Poor Steve."
"What about you?" he asked. "What did Crystal want to be?"
She looked ahead, thoughtful. "I wanted to be a writer. But I grew up watching my mom work two jobs just to keep the lights on. So I pivoted—communications felt like something I could still love… and survive doing."
"You're amazing," he said without hesitation. "You know that, right?"
She looked at him, caught off guard. "You barely know me."
He stopped walking, turned to face her fully. "I know enough. You're passionate. Driven. The kind of woman who walks into a room and doesn't need to announce herself. People just… notice."
Crystal looked down, shy suddenly. "You're really good at this, you know."
"At what?"
"Making people feel seen."
"I only speak the truth," he replied.
They walked again, slower this time, savoring the comfort of each other's presence. Eventually, they reached her building.
Neither of them moved toward the door.
"I should go in," Crystal said softly.
"I should let you," Justin replied, equally soft.
But neither did.
She turned toward him and said, "Would you like to come up?"
He looked into her eyes, searching.
"Only if you want me to," he said.
Crystal smiled, stepped forward, and kissed him gently, lingering. "I do. Just to talk," she added quickly. "Maybe… keep the night going a little longer."
He grinned. "Lead the way."
They ended up on her couch, shoeless, both sipping hot chocolate she insisted on making.
He looked around, admiring her bookshelf filled with novels, journals, and little scribbled notes stuck to the spines.
"You really did want to be a writer," he said, pulling one down.
"I still write sometimes," she said, curling her legs beneath her. "Mostly poems no one will ever read."
"I'd like to read one someday," he said.
She blushed but said nothing.
They stayed like that for hours talking, laughing, listening. About life. About fears. About dreams they hadn't told anyone in years.
At some point, Crystal leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, and neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
When she finally dozed off, curled into his side, Justin sat still for a long time, just watching her sleep.
He had known love before.
But never like this.
Never with someone who felt like home.
And even though it was far too early to say anything aloud, the words sat quietly on the tip of his tongue:
"She's going to change my life."