Page 32 of Falling Off Script

He hesitates. “Emotional.”

God. Not that one.

I sigh, cap the marker. “Sit. Talk.”

He perches on the edge of the table like a man about to confess to murder—and counting on you to help bury the body.

“It’s the girl from the coffee shop,” he starts.

I nod like, go on, even though I already know where this is going. The way he’s talking? He’s caught. Not by her. By the feeling.

“We kissed,” he says.

“Okay. Who initiated it?”

He looks away. “Me.”

“Details. Start from the top. Set the scene like I’m your editor and we’re trying to sell the film rights.”

“We met for a walk. Coffee again, but to-go. Casual. She mentioned she had a tight schedule, so I suggested we walk around the reservoir.”

“Smart,” I say. “Movement keeps things light. Conversation flows easier side by side.”

He nods. “We talked about weird jobs. Hers was assistant brand manager at a pickle company in college. I told her about my gig handing out flyers dressed as a burrito.”

“A+.” I pause. “And the moment?”

He shrugs. “We stopped at the overlook. I asked if she ever felt like she was living her life in third-person. She said yes.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Jesus, Matt. That’s almosttoogood. You didn’t read that on a subreddit?”

He shrugs. “No. That one’s mine.”

I lean forward, elbows on knees. “Okay. And then?”

“I touched her arm. Light. Then I said, ‘I’ve been wanting to do something, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right moment.’”

“Solid. You gave her space to opt in.”

“She looked at me, and I said, ‘I think I just found it.’ Then I kissed her.”

I let out a low whistle. “You soft-launched a move and closed. You’ve been holding out on me. That was clean.”

“I practiced. In my head. Like... a lot.”

Of course he did. That’s why I like this guy. He doesn’t coast on charisma. Hedoes the work.

“Okay,” I say. “Now the real question. Did you escalate further?”

And that’s when it comes.

“I did not,” he says. “I’m just... not interested in the performance anymore. I don’t want to escalate. I want tofeel.”

That’s bad. I pause. Stare.

“Matt. That’s how they get you.”

His brow furrows. “Who’s ‘they’?”

---