Chapter 2
Agatha Harkness took a deep breath as she smoothed a stray hair back into place, then gave herself a long, assessing look in the mirror. She had chosen an outfit that was both elegant and effortlessly casual—a dark purple, fitted blouse with the faintest shimmer, paired with sleek black trousers and her favorite pair of heeled boots. A soft, rich wine-colored lipstick accented her look, which she hoped conveyed interest without making her seem too eager. Still, beneath her calm demeanor, she could feel the familiar prickle of nerves as she prepared for her date with her...
Rio Vidal.
Agatha still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten to this point. Only a few weeks ago, she’d been on the verge of deleting all her dating apps. She had tried, of course—on and off for years now, if she was being honest—but every match seemed to end with the same dull routine of texting back and forth until the conversation fizzled out. None of it felt real. Nothing sparked.
And then there was Alice, who, as Agatha would freely admit, was both her best friend and her worst influence. Alice was the sort of friend who found her own joy in meddling, pushing Agatha into situations she swore she didn’t want but often secretly appreciated. So when Agatha had complained, yet again, that online dating was a fruitless endeavor, Alice had snatched her phone and, with a wicked grin, had set about swiping on Agatha’s behalf.
“I have an eye for these things,” Alice had said, her finger flicking through profiles with a confidence Agatha could only envy.
“Yes, well, I doubt you’ll find anyone less interesting than my usual luck,” Agatha had replied dryly, watching as Alice continued her enthusiastic search.
And then one day, Agatha had opened her phone to see a match notification—a new face, Rio, looking up at her with an expression that was equal parts aloof and challenging. Agatha had felt an unexpected thrill, a hint of something she hadn’t felt in ages. She’d scrolled through Rio’s profile, curious and more than a little intrigued. Rio wasn’t like the others—there was an edge to her, a quiet intensity that showed through even in her photos. She had an air of mystery, a kind of hard-won independence that made Agatha’s pulse quicken.
But Rio was also... younger. Not drastically so, but enough that Agatha had hesitated, wondering if she was really up for the inevitable generational divide. What if their lives were just too different to connect? What if she was just looking to fuck a "milf". A term Alice had used a few times before when complimenting her.
But Agatha couldn’t bring herself to unmatch. There was something magnetic about Rio, something that felt both familiar and utterly foreign, and Agatha hadn’t wanted to let that feeling go.
And here she was, getting ready, her mind a tangle of possibilities. Agatha took another look at herself in the mirror, her expression softening. She wanted to appear interested, but not desperate. Optimistic, but guarded. She was excited, but she kept her excitement carefully tucked away, well aware of the risks of letting herself get swept up too soon.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she murmured, adjusting the angle of a silver bracelet on her wrist. But a part of her couldn’t help but feel the tiniest sliver of hope. There was something electric about the idea of meeting someone who might challenge her, someone who might bring a little bit of trouble into her life in the best possible way.
Alice had texted her just that afternoon, asking how she was feeling about her “big date.”
You know you can thank me later, with a smirking emoji.
I have no one to thank yet, least of all you Agatha had texted back, hiding her own curiosity.
Alice had a knack for seeing through her bravado, which meant that no amount of sarcasm could completely conceal Agatha’s interest. And Alice knew better than anyone how lonely Agatha had been, how the years of searching had chipped away at her optimism until she’d begun to wonder if maybe she was better off on her own.
But when she thought of Rio, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something different—a quiet thrill that told her, just maybe, that this could be something worth exploring.
She finished her makeup, giving herself one final, critical look. She could still cancel. She could still let the moment pass and retreat back to her carefully constructed world. But that idea felt suddenly stifling, like a door closing just before she could catch a glimpse of the world on the other side.
With a sigh, she picked up her phone, scrolling through the brief, sporadic conversation she’d shared with Rio over the past two weeks. Rio’s messages were always dry, even a bit sardonic, but Agatha sensed something behind the façade, something unspoken. She knew cynicism well—she was hardly a stranger to disappointment—but she could tell that Rio’s edge came from something more vulnerable, something she recognized all too easily.
For the first time in years, Agatha felt something spark in her chest, a flicker of the reckless hope she used to feel before she’d learned to be careful with her heart. Maybe it was foolish, maybe it would lead nowhere, but as she slipped on her coat and took one last look around her apartment, she couldn’t deny the pull of the unknown.
“Here’s to fresh starts,” she murmured, giving herself a final nod before grabbing her bag. It was a small step, one date, but it was more than she’d allowed herself in a long time. And as she headed for the door, Agatha could feel her heart beating just a bit faster, the anticipation building with every step.
--
Rio parked her car and glanced at the restaurant sign. It was the kind of place she preferred—quiet, a little dim, not the sort of spot where everyone stared at you when you walked in. She was early, which she hated, but sitting in her car somehow felt worse than waiting inside. With a sigh, she grabbed her jacket, gave herself a last glance in the rearview mirror to make sure her lipstick was still on, and walked toward the door, hoping her heartbeat would decide to act normal by the time Agatha showed up.
Inside, she picked a table near the back, one with a view of the whole restaurant. She sat down, pretending to read the menu while stealing glances at the entrance every few seconds, feeling both jittery and annoyed with herself. Why was she nervous? It wasn’t as if she actually expected anything from this date. She hadn’t even planned on going, but something about Agatha’s texts had pulled her in. Now she was here, and every nerve in her body seemed to buzz with anticipation.
When Agatha finally walked in, Rio found herself straightening in her seat, even as she scolded herself for the instinct. Agatha was dressed with a kind of relaxed elegance that Rio appreciated, her outfit in the low light made her look both mysterious and effortlessly self-assured.
“Rio,” Agatha greeted her with a small smile as she approached the table. “Early? Or did I keep you waiting?”
“Neither,” Rio replied, brushing it off. “You’re just… right on time.”
They sat across from each other, each studying the menu with what could only be described as feigned nonchalance. Rio could feel the silence stretching between them, as if both were trying to find the perfect first words to set the tone of the evening.
“So,” Rio began, flipping the menu shut. “What’s someone like you doing on a dating app?”
Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Someone like me?”
Rio smirked. “Someone… you know, distinguished. Doesn’t exactly scream Tinder or swiping left, if you ask me.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve thought the same thing,” Agatha replied dryly, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I let a friend talk me into it, if you must know. Some things, it seems, don’t change with age.”
“Is that what happens?” Rio asked, tilting her head. “You get your friends to do the dirty work for you? Don’t tell me I’m here just because of someone else’s brilliant plan.”
“Let’s just say,” Agatha leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, “that sometimes, other people have more faith in you than you have in yourself. Not that you’d know anything about that.”
Rio raised an eyebrow, unable to resist a laugh. “Me? You think I lack faith in myself?”
“Doesn’t take a genius to notice.” Agatha’s tone was light, almost playful, but Rio could sense the observation behind her words, like Agatha could see right through her.
Before Rio could formulate a response, the waiter arrived to take their orders. Both women opted for simple dishes, just enough to occupy their hands but not enough to distract from their growing fascination with each other.
“So,” Agatha began, folding her hands in front of her, “since you seem to think you’ve got me all figured out, how about you tell me something I don’t know?”
Rio’s smirk returned, and she leaned back in her chair. “Easy. I’m a history professor. Specialize in the evolution of Western civilization.”
“Ah, a history professor,” Agatha repeated, looking amused. “That explains the overconfidence. I bet you know *everything* that’s ever happened since the dawn of time, right?”
“Pretty much,” Rio replied, deadpan. “Ask me anything.”
Agatha laughed, shaking her head. “Impressive. So that means you’re not only insightful, but endlessly wise?”
“I’ve got knowledge dating back to, like, ancient Mesopotamia,” Rio shrugged, trying to keep her grin from slipping. “How much wiser could you want?”
“Except that you weren’t exactly there, were you?” Agatha countered, her gaze turning teasing. “You’re young, Rio. Don’t try to pass yourself off as some ancient oracle.”
“Oh, I’m young, am I?” Rio leaned forward, her eyes glinting. “Says the woman who’s quoting me like I’m in a history textbook.”
Sarcasm became their shield, a game they both knew how to play well. Each jab seemed to pull them closer, their words revealing more than either of them intended.
They volleyed back and forth over everything from the latest trends which Agatha disdained and Rio rolled her eyes at, to classic literature a rare area of mutual respect/
As the evening wore on, they shared stories, each one unfolding with a blend of wit and a touch of vulnerability that kept the other intrigued. Rio felt herself slowly letting down her guard, caught off-guard by how easy it felt to share pieces of herself with this strange, sharp woman.
When their plates were empty and their glasses drained, Agatha glanced down at the check the waiter had discreetly placed at the edge of the table. “Let me take care of that,” she said, reaching for it.
“Oh, no,” Rio interjected, sliding her hand over the bill before Agatha could grab it. “I didn’t come here for a sugar momma.”
Agatha’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before a rich laugh escaped her. “Well, I must say, that’s… oddly comforting. At least I won’t have to worry about that with you.”
With a mischievous smirk, Rio slipped her card into the leather holder, handing it to the waiter with a quickness that told Agatha she’d won this round—barely. She watched as Agatha shook her head, a small smile pulling at her lips.
“You’re… something else,” Agatha murmured, her eyes meeting Rio’s with a warmth that Rio hadn’t expected.
For a moment, neither spoke, letting the comfortable silence settle around them. Rio felt a warmth in her chest, a sense of ease she couldn’t quite explain. She realized, with a hint of surprise, that she didn’t want the night to end.
As they gathered their things and made their way out of the restaurant, the streetlights cast a warm glow over the sidewalk. Rio fumbled for her keys, feeling a strange reluctance to say goodbye.
“Well,” she said finally, turning to Agatha. “I guess this is it.”
Agatha looked at her, something soft and hesitant in her expression. For a moment, Rio thought she might say something—some parting remark to cap off their banter—but instead, Agatha just smiled.
She stepped closer, her hand grazing Rio’s arm as she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Rio’s breath hitched, caught off-guard by the softness of the gesture.
As Agatha pulled away, her smile was still there, warm and genuine, and Rio felt an unexpected flutter in her chest.
“Goodnight, Rio,” Agatha murmured, her gaze lingering before she turned and walked toward her car.
Rio slipped into the driver’s seat, closing the door and exhaling a slow, shaky breath.
Her cheek still felt warm where Agatha’s lips had brushed against it, and her heart was thrumming a little too hard, a little too eagerly. She wasn’t used to this—this sharp, bubbling excitement that made her hands tremble slightly as she started the car.
It was ridiculous. It was a date, just one date, and here she was acting like she’d been plucked out of some cheesy rom-com.
She gripped the steering wheel, staring out into the streetlights blurring against the night sky, forcing herself to take a breath and settle down. Just a night out, she reminded herself. Just a casual dinner that she’d probably laugh about later.
Except… Agatha had surprised her. Her quick wit, that low, amused laugh, and the way she could see straight through Rio’s sarcasm as if she’d read her like an open book. It was maddening, in a way that made Rio want to see her again. It was dangerous, really.
A small smile crept onto her lips before she could stop it, and she pressed her fingers against her cheek, feeling the warmth still lingering there. Then she shook her head, frowning at herself. This was not a big deal. They’d bantered, flirted, laughed, but she knew how these things usually went.
Charming nights like this had a way of fading fast, and she’d wake up tomorrow, brush off the butterflies, and go back to her routine.
“Calm down, Vidal,” she muttered, flicking on the car’s radio trying to drown out her thoughts.
She was overreacting, letting herself get wrapped up in the thrill of something that would likely fizzle out before it even had the chance to start. Maybe Agatha would lose interest, or maybe Rio would find some little flaw to fixate on and remind herself why she was better off alone.