Chapter 1
Rio Vidal sat cross-legged on the worn carpet of her bedroom floor, with clothes scattered around her like the debris of a fashionable hurricane. She held up a black leather jacket, eyeing it as if it were on trial for its very existence. Behind her, perched stoically on the armchair with a slight tilt to his head, was her rabbit, Poe, his soft gray fur glistening in the dim light of the room. She raised an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to comment on her latest life choice.
“Look, I know,” she sighed, tossing the jacket aside and digging through the growing mountain of clothes. “I know it’s a date. A first date. With a real person. You don’t have to give me that look.”
Poe’s silence was, as always, unrelenting.
“What? No snappy comeback?” She shot him a mock glare. “Some friend you are.”
The rabbit blinked at her, twitching his nose as if considering it, which earned him a grudging smile from Rio. She knew she was stalling, of course. Digging through her closet was the perfect distraction to avoid dealing with the nagging swarm of nerves that had somehow snuck their way into her chest.
She took a deep breath, pulling a lacy black top from the pile and giving it a dubious look before glancing back at Poe. “I mean… what’s the point?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s just another date. Another probably disappointing, mildly tolerable evening at best.”
She sighed, tossing the top to the side and tugging out a long, dark trench coat. “I mean, really. Who even still believes in ‘the one’ or soulmates? It’s just… chemicals. Neuroscience. You get addicted to someone’s pheromones, call it ‘love’ for a while, and then… poof. It’s over.” She examined the coat before shaking her head and tossing it onto the floor beside her. “That’s dating in a nutshell, Poe. A dance of mutual disappointment.”
The rabbit gave her a slight tilt of his head, his eyes dark and unreadable. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was smirking.
“Fine,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe I want to go on this date, okay? Maybe a little.” She ran a hand through her messy hair, trying to tame it as she spoke. “Agatha Harkness. The name alone sounds like something out of a Gothic novel. Mysterious, mature, totally intriguing.” Her lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “And okay, she’s a little… older. Which could be a downside. But then again…”
Rio’s voice trailed off, her eyes flicking toward the mirror as if catching her own reflection would stop her from thinking what she was thinking. “Then again, she’s probably... experienced. In all the best ways.” She pressed her lips together, fighting off the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks.
Poe stared, unmoved.
“It’s a first date!” she blurted, scowling at her own wandering mind. “Who even thinks about these things on a first date?” She picked up a pair of black boots, inspecting them as if they might hold the answers to the universe. “We’ll have drinks, chat about the basics, probably laugh a bit. She’ll tell me something vaguely interesting about her life, I’ll pretend to be all cynical and unimpressed… You know the drill.”
She tugged on the boots and stood up, casting a critical eye over her reflection. She had a reputation to uphold. Cynical, guarded, unimpressed by romance in all its hollow promises. And yet, as she flicked open her favorite tube of crimson lipstick and leaned into the mirror, she couldn’t deny the little flutter in her chest at the idea of seeing Agatha.
“So what if she has that mysterious look?” she muttered, brushing her fingers along her jawline to make sure the lip liner was flawless. “And so what if her messages have been… fun? And a little witty. And a lot flirtatious.” She rolled her eyes, adding the finishing touch of dark liner around her eyes, making them sharp and a little dangerous. “It’s just dinner. Drinks, maybe. Nothing to write poetry over.”
She shot a look at Poe as if he might refute that. “I mean, honestly, who needs poetry when you have sarcasm and a thick skin, right?”
Poe continued his silent vigil, watching her with a patient, wise gaze that made her feel both foolish and comforted. She knew she was lying to herself, and maybe he did, too.
“Alright,” she said, blowing out a dramatic breath and grabbing her black leather jacket off the bed. She draped it over her shoulders, striking a pose in front of the mirror, letting the edges of her lips lift into a self-satisfied smile. “There. Perfect.”
The look was sharp—black from head to toe, with the jacket giving her a rebellious edge. The bold red lips were her one concession to romance, a small but potent touch that hinted, perhaps, at a softer side she rarely let anyone see.
She gave Poe a final look, one eyebrow raised as if daring him to make any more silent comments. “Wish me luck,” she muttered, bending down to give his ears a quick, affectionate scratch. “Not that I need it.”
But as she closed her bedroom door behind her, that little flutter returned, a nervous excitement that made her breath catch just slightly.