First Date

Chapter 14

Tina's POV

The week leading up to that Saturday felt like counting to ten in one breath.Frantic and overwhelming. Everyone at university was bogged down by assignments, presentations, and preparing for the upcoming exams. Each day blurred into the next, every second ticking by as a reminder of all that still needed to be done. For the first time, it felt like we were all truly realizing that time was money.

It had already been four months since we started university, and Christmas break was right around the corner. Right after our first-semester exams. To keep our scholarships, we knew we had to stay focused. So Trisha, Veronica, and I made a pact: no socializing this week. Every time we caught a glimpse of each other in the library, we just gave each other tired nods, like soldiers in the trenches. We knew that if we met up to "study," it would likely turn into a party, and none of us could afford that distraction.

I hadn't talked to Joe much either. He seemed busy with his own friends, probably doing a group study. Veronica suggested the idea of studying together, but I declined; group study was a recipe for disaster for me.I needed complete silence to get anything done. And honestly, I kinda missed Joe. Ever since that kiss, I found myself wanting to see him more, but with exams looming, there wasn't much I could do.

By Saturday, my apartment was a disaster, and laundry had piled up, but I'd decided to study instead, promising myself I'd clean later. I was deep into my notes, trying to figure out a particularly nasty problem, when my phone rang. Glancing down, I saw Joe's name on the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Hello?" I answered, trying to sound casual.

"Hey, how's it going? Hope I'm not interrupting," he said, sounding a little hesitant.

"Not at all! Just, you know, neck-deep in notes." I laughed.

After a pause, he asked, "So... do you still want to go on that date? If not, that's fine too. We can always reschedule or something." His voice trailed off, almost as if he was second-guessing himself.

I couldn't help but smile. "I'd love to! Honestly, I could really use a break from all this studying. A breather sounds amazing right now."

"Great! I'll pick you up at six, then," he replied, and I could almost hear him smiling before he hung up.

The moment I set the phone down, my nerves kicked in. It was my first real date. Sure, I'd gone out with people before, but this felt different. My dad always discouraged dating, believing marriage was the goal, so I'd never really dated seriously. But with Joe, I felt this undeniable pull. I joked with myself that I didn't want to end up in my thirties still single and having my relatives throw me into the "last-resort" dating pool.

With butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I took a long shower to clear my mind and calm my nerves. After drying my hair, I braided it to one side, leaving a fringe on the other. I chose a cozy, knee-length black knitted dress with long sleeves, practical enough for winter yet dressy enough for a date. A little makeup, finished with light shade lipstick, and I was ready to go. I almost didn't recognize myself. Back home, I barely wore makeup. But for Joe? Maybe it was worth the extra effort.

Bundling up in a coat and high-cut boots, I made my way down to the lobby, where Joe was waiting with a small bouquet of white roses. His outfit. A royal blue turtleneck with a brown winter coat was effortlessly classy. And he'd left a bit of scruff on his face, which gave him this rugged charm that made my pulse race.

"You look amazing," he said, handing me the bouquet.

"Thanks. You did pretty well yourself," I replied, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

He opened the car door for me, and I slid in, setting the bouquet in the back. Throughout the drive, we talked about exams, holiday plans, and New Year's. Soon enough, we pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant I'd heard about: Three Hungry Bears. It was all the rage around campus, with reservations booked months in advance.

"Joe, how did you manage to get a reservation here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped inside.

He grinned. "A little family connection. The owner's a friend of my dad's. He pulled some strings."

The hostess led us to a table, and I took in the ambiance. The lighting was dim, and soft instrumental music filled the air, accompanied by the faintest scent of lavender. Candles flickered on each table, casting a warm, intimate glow. It was... perfect.

Joe pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, he took his seat across from me. When the menu arrived, I glanced at the prices and nearly choked. Each dish looked more expensive than my monthly groceries.

"Is... is this really the menu?" I whispered.

He chuckled, leaning in. "Don't worry. It's on the house tonight."

"Oh, then by all means, bring on the five-star cuisine!" I laughed, my nerves settling a bit.

A waiter brought a bottle of red wine, and Joe poured us each a glass. I eyed it warily, recalling my last, somewhat embarrassing, encounter with wine.

"Just one glass. I promise it won't turn into another tipsy adventure," he teased, winking.

"Fine, but you're responsible if I start dancing on tables," I shot back, clinking my glass against his.

As we waited for our food, I glanced around, taking in the cozy, romantic ambiance. "Thank you for this," I murmured, touched. "I really needed a break, and this place is perfect."

Joe smiled, that gentle warmth in his eyes again. "Anything for my friend."

The word "friend" stung a bit more than I wanted to admit. I had hoped for something... more. But I forced a smile, playing it cool.

"Friends, huh?" I said, raising my glass. "Alright, to friendship."

Dinner arrived, and we dug into our meals. Me with pasta, and Joe with chicken parmesan. Between bites, he cracked jokes, told me stories from his childhood, and had me laughing so hard that I nearly snorted my wine. He had this way of making even the most ordinary things seem funny.

When dessert arrived. A rich, creamy tiramisu. I raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to ruin my figure by tempting me with calories?"

"Just try it," he insisted, smirking. I took a bite, and my eyes went wide. It was heavenly.

"Okay, you win. This might be the best dessert I've ever tasted," I admitted, savoring each bite.

He laughed softly. "I knew you'd like it."

The evening slipped by faster than I wanted it to, filled with easy conversation, laughter, and moments when our eyes lingered just a bit too long. The chemistry was there, and it was electric. I found myself wishing the night wouldn't end.

Joe's POV

The silence in the car ride back had been heavy, almost suffocating, like an unspoken weight pressing down on my chest. My heart had raced the entire night, and my nerves were frayed from holding back, waiting for the perfect moment that never came. Every missed chance to tell her had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and by the time I watched her close the door to her apartment, I felt defeated. Completely gutted. How could a night I'd hoped would be so special end like this?

But then everything changed in an instant. The phone call from Dad, the rush to the hospital. All my own worries and heartbreak suddenly seemed trivial. My mind reeled as I raced through the city streets. Mrs. Givens was like family to us, and the thought of her being in danger shook me to the core.

When I arrived, the sight of Tamara. Her face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hit me like a punch to the gut. She looked lost, fragile in a way I'd never seen before. I wanted to tell her that it would be alright, but I couldn't lie to her. What if it wasn't?

As Dad filled me in on what had happened, I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. This wasn't just a minor setback or a bad day; this was a heart attack. And judging by the fear in Dad's eyes and the way Mom held Tamara close, it was serious.

Sitting beside Tamara, I held her hands, trying to be her anchor even as my own fears clawed at me. I'd never seen her so vulnerable, and the raw emotion in her voice made my chest ache.

"I don't want to lose her," she whispered, each word dripping with anguish. "I already lost Dad, and she's the only one I have left."

A pang of sympathy shot through me as I watched her crumble. I could see the fear in her eyes, a fear so visceral and profound that it made me want to protect her from everything painful in the world.

"Hey, she's going to be okay," I said, the words sounding hollow even to me. I wanted to believe it, but the fear gnawed at me too. "Let's just hear what the doctor has to say."

Time dragged by in torturous silence. Finally, Mom walked over to us, her face pale, her lips trembling. I knew the news wasn't good before she even opened her mouth.

"She had a minor heart attack, but she's okay now," Mom said softly, her voice barely holding steady. Tamara's breath hitched, her hands shaking in mine.

"Can I see her?" she asked, desperation filling her eyes.

Mom nodded. I could feel Tamara's whole body trembling as I helped her up and walked her toward the emergency room. When she saw her mother lying there, so still, connected to tubes and monitors, I thought she was going to collapse. Her knees buckled, and I caught her, steadying her as best as I could.

Tamara's hand was shaking as she reached out to hold her mother's. "Mom," she whispered, barely audible. Her shoulders quaked as she clung to her mother's hand, brushing a thumb over her mother's skin like she was afraid to let go, afraid that if she did, her mother might disappear forever.

Seeing her like this broke something inside of me. I wanted to take her pain away, absorb it all so she wouldn't have to bear it. But I couldn't. All I could do was be there, helplessly watching as her heart shattered.

"I'm here for you," I murmured, not knowing what else to say, yet feeling it wasn't enough. Would it ever be enough?

Outside, Mom and Dad waited, their faces lined with worry and grief. The sight of my mom, usually so composed, now breaking down in tears, made my own heart ache. She pulled me close, her hands clinging to mine as if I could somehow make everything right.

"How is she?" Mom asked, voice cracking.

"Not good," I managed to say. My voice was thick, choked by emotions I couldn't control. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her things would be fine, but the words stuck in my throat.

Tamara's words from earlier echoed in my head. "I don't want to lose her." The raw vulnerability in her voice, the desperation. It left a scar on my heart. Watching her fight this silent battle alone was gut-wrenching, and I realized how little I'd done to truly be there for her, to understand her pain.

Mom asked me to drive back home because Jia was alone. I found Jia curled up near the sofa, her face streaked with tears. She looked so young, so lost, and my chest tightened at the sight of her. I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I could, trying to offer comfort that I wasn't even sure I could feel myself.

The fear of loss was so painful, so deeply embedded now. In that moment, as Jia sobbed into my shoulder, I understood how fragile life really was. And how short. If I could lose someone in the blink of an eye, I couldn't waste any more time holding back from Tina.

I need to tell her, I thought, my chest tightening. I need her to know that I have some feelings for before it's too late.

My mind drifted back to the evening, to the countless missed chances and the way I'd hesitated, always waiting for the "perfect moment" that never came. And now, here I was, cradling my grieving sister and watching Tamara fall apart in the hospital, haunted by the realization that life could change in an instant.

Tamara's POV

I sat beside my mother's hospital bed, feeling hollow, as though everything inside me had drained away over the past two days. Machines hummed quietly, the rhythm blending into my thoughts until I couldn't tell where the sounds ended and my fears began. It was a familiar ache now, one that grew sharper every time I looked at her pale face, lips barely moving, as if even breathing was a struggle she didn't have the strength for.

I was startled out of my trance by a gentle tap on my shoulder. Joe's face came into focus, and he held a bag out to me, the comforting aroma of something home-cooked floating up. "Hey, Tam. You need to eat," he said, his voice soft but firm.

I shook my head, barely able to summon the energy to respond. "I'm not hungry."

"You say that, but I know you haven't eaten since yesterday." He tugged a chair over beside mine and handed me a spoon before taking the lid off a container of warm soup. "Look, you need to keep up your strength. I'm not leaving until you eat at least half of this."

He didn't push, didn't scold. Just waited, his eyes patient, steady. Joe had always had this effect on me. Grounding, as if he could absorb all my fear and chaos just by being near. I reluctantly took the spoon, murmuring, "Thank you." As I took my first sip, the warmth spread through me, melting a bit of the cold that had settled deep in my chest.

"See?" he smiled, his gaze soft. "Not so bad, right?"

I managed a small nod, the soup's warmth fighting back the numbness, if only a little. Joe stayed silent, watching me with a quiet intensity that made me feel seen, truly seen, in a way no one else could.

A heavy step approached, and I looked up to see Mr. Givens. My stepfather, but he was more than that to me. He looked exhausted, the weight of his own worry carved into his face, but when his eyes met mine, his usual gentle smile reappeared.

"Tamara, sweetheart," he said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you go home for a bit, get some proper rest? You need it."

I opened my mouth to protest, to insist that I had to stay, but he shook his head, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll be right here with her. She'll be okay. And Joe's here to take you home. Please, for me?"

My heart twisted. He was right, of course, but the thought of leaving Mom was terrifying. I nodded, mostly to reassure him, though my hands shook as I picked up my things.

On the drive back, silence filled the car, but it was a comfortable silence. A reminder that Joe didn't need words to be here for me. Just his presence was enough. He walked me to the door, letting himself in with the ease of someone who knew every inch of my house.

To my surprise, he'd cleaned up, even folded the blankets on the couch and left a bouquet of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter. Seeing that small splash of color. That little token of care. Cracked something open in me, and for the first time in days, I felt a warmth that was more than just fleeting comfort. It was...hope.

I turned to Joe, my voice trembling. "Thank you. For...all of this."

He shrugged, but I saw the tenderness in his eyes. "It's what friends do, right?"

Something in me ached at that word. Friends. I wanted to believe there was more, that maybe this care meant he still felt something for me. But I was too drained, too scared to hope.

When he walked me to my bedroom, I felt a strange sense of peace knowing he was here, anchoring me. He helped me lie down, tucking the blankets around me as if I were fragile glass.

Just before he turned to leave, I caught his hand, needing the connection. Our eyes met, and the intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming. I wanted to throw my arms around him, to bury my face against his shoulder and cry, to let all the fear and exhaustion out. But I held back, afraid of crossing a line I couldn't cross.

Instead, I just whispered, "Joe...thank you. Really."

His thumb brushed my knuckles, and his gaze softened. "Get some sleep, Tam. I'll be here as long as you need."

As he pulled a chair close and settled beside me, I felt a sense of comfort that reached deeper than words. I lay there, watching him, hoping he could see the gratitude, the longing, everything I couldn't bring myself to say. His presence filled the empty spaces, easing my fears as sleep finally pulled me under.

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"Life doesn't wait for the perfect moment. It just happens, and we have to learn to live in it, even when we're too afraid to."