Ethan Rivera considered himself a “casual flirt.”
Everyone else considered him “a man who tried way too hard.”

Tonight, he was at a friend’s birthday party, leaning against the kitchen counter like he was posing for a magazine called Mediocre Decisions Monthly. He had practiced his “cool guy lean” in the mirror earlier. It looked better in the mirror.

Across the room, he spotted her.

A girl he’d never seen before.
Curly hair. Bright eyes. Laughing at something on her phone like it was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed.

Ethan straightened up.
This was his moment.

He walked over, trying to look confident but mostly looking like someone who wasn’t sure how legs worked.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the wall next to her.

The wall was not actually there.

He fell straight through the open doorway and landed on the carpet.

She blinked down at him. “Are you… okay?”

“Yep,” Ethan said, popping up like this was all part of the plan. “Just checking the structural integrity of the floor. It’s… very supportive.”

She snorted. “That’s one way to enter a conversation.”

“I like to make an impression.”

“You did,” she said. “A concerning one.”

He grinned. “I’m Ethan.”

“Lila.”

“Nice to meet you, Lila. So, uh… what are you laughing at?”

She turned her phone toward him.
It was a video of a raccoon stealing an entire pizza box off someone’s porch.

Ethan nodded seriously. “That raccoon has ambition. I respect that.”

“Honestly,” Lila said, “he’s doing better than me. I can’t even commit to finishing a salad.”

“Salads are a scam,” Ethan said. “They’re just leaves pretending to be food.”

Lila burst out laughing — loud, unfiltered, the kind of laugh that made other people turn their heads.

Ethan felt victorious.
He had made her laugh.
He was in.

“So,” he said, leaning casually against the actual wall this time, “can I get you a drink?”

“Sure,” she said. “Surprise me.”

Ethan marched to the kitchen with purpose. He was going to make the best drink she’d ever had. Something classy. Something impressive.

He grabbed a cup.
He grabbed ice.
He grabbed… the wrong bottle.

He returned proudly and handed it to her.

She took a sip.
Paused.

Stared at him.

“Ethan,” she said slowly, “did you just give me… pickle juice?”

Ethan froze. “I— what— no— maybe— yes.”

Lila laughed so hard she had to put the cup down.

“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “You’re dangerous.”

“In a mysterious way?”

“In a ‘you should not be allowed near beverages’ way.”

Ethan put a hand over his heart. “I accept that.”

She wiped her eyes, still giggling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re laughing,” he said. “So I’m doing something right.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Or I’m just easily entertained.”

“Either way,” Ethan said, “I’ll take it.”

Lila smirked. “Alright, Smooth Guy. Try again. One more drink. No pickles.”

Ethan saluted. “I will not fail you twice.”

“You absolutely will,” she said, “and I’m excited to watch.”