Page 14 of The Valentine Agenda

James Park. Had just asked her. To dinner.

At Nero's. On Valentine's Day.

A laugh bubbled up that was half giggle, half squeak. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn't contain the ridiculous grin spreading across her face. She had to lean against the wall, not caring that she was crushing the Valentine's decorations she'd just arranged.

"Did that just happen?" she whispered to herself. "Did that actually just happen?"

Her phone was in her hand before she could think, fingers shaking as she typed.

SOPHIE. EMERGENCY. JAMES PARK JUST ASKED ME TO DINNER. VALENTINE'S DAY. NEROS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

The response was immediate:WHAT?????

Hannah slid down the wall to sit on the floor, not caring how unprofessional it looked. Another text from Sophie:CALL ME RIGHT NOW

But Hannah couldn't talk yet. She was too busy replaying the moment in her mind. The way he'd said her name. How he'd seemed almost... nervous? James Park, nervous about asking her out? The thought made her feel light-headed.

Her phone exploded with more texts:HANNAH MILLER ANSWER YOUR PHONEARE YOU DEAD FROM SHOCKDO I NEED TO COME OVERWHAT ARE YOU WEARING??

The last question snapped her back to reality. Oh god. Whatwasshe going to wear? She had exactly twenty-four hours to find something appropriate for Nero's. Something that would make her look like she belonged at a table across from James Park in his perfect suits with his perfect hair and his perfect—

"Hannah?" Mrs. Chen's voice made her jump. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

"James asked me to dinner," she blurted out, then immediately blushed harder.

"I heard." Mrs. Chen's expression didn't change. But something in her eyes did. "At Nero's."

Hannah nodded. "For Valentine's Day." Even saying it out loud made her stomach flip with excitement.

Her phone buzzed again. Sophie was now sending dress options from online stores. Hannah's hands were still shaking as she stood up, gathering the fallen paper hearts.

"I should... I need to..." She gestured vaguely toward the elevators, unable to form complete sentences.

"Yes, you have much to prepare." Was that concern in Mrs. Chen's tone? But Hannah was already halfway to the elevator, her mind racing with possibilities.

What if he held her hand across the table? What if their fingers brushed reaching for the wine glass? What if he walked her home after and leaned in to—

The elevator dinged and Hannah realized she'd been standing there without pressing any buttons, just grinning at her reflection like an idiot. She jabbed the button for her floor, then immediately pulled out her phone again.

SOPHIE I NEED HELP WITH EVERYTHING. WHAT DO I DO WITH MY HAIR? SHOULD I GET IT CUT? DO I NEED NEW SHOES? WHAT IF HE WANTS TO KISS ME? WHAT IF HE DOESN'T WANT TO KISS ME? HELP.

Her heart raced with possibilities, her mind already flying ahead to tomorrow night. To candlelight and wine and James Park looking at her—really looking at her—across a table at the most romantic restaurant in the city.

Her phone buzzed one more time. Sophie:I'm coming over RIGHT NOW. Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't do anything until I get there.

Hannah hugged her phone to her chest, still grinning. For once in her life, something magical was happening to her instead of someone else.

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"Absolutely not," Sophie declared, vetoing another dress. "You are not wearing your cousin's wedding outfit from 2019. He asked you to Nero's, not a garden party in Connecticut."

Hannah's studio apartment looked like her closet had exploded. Every piece of clothing she owned lay scattered across her bed, spilling onto her armchair. Each item dismissed for being too casual, too teacher-like, or not fancy enough for Nero's. She'd never even walked past Nero's—the kind of place where even the waiting list had a waiting list.

She surveyed her tiny living space, where her bed took up most of the room, at the secondhand armchair she'd wedged into the corner.

"Then what am I supposed to wear?" Hannah collapsed onto the only clear spot on her bed. "Everything I own screams 'makes macaroni art for a living.'"

"Which is why we're going shopping." Sophie was already grabbing her purse. "No arguments. This is a fashion emergency."

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