Page 26 of Falling for My Matchmaker

I held my keys like a prop. We stood in front of my building, bathed in that vague glow of the streetlamp that always made everything feel one shade too cinematic.

He shifted a little closer.

Here we go.

Was I supposed to feel something?

Was there going to be a spark?

A swoop?

A sudden, undeniable pull that made me forget I had ever doubted this?

My stomach fluttered. But not in the good way—more like the pre-ulcer way.

He was leaning in. His eyes locked on mine, soft and steady.

Okay, Diana. This is fine. This is a kiss. Kisses are allowed. You’ve kissed people before. You’ve kissedbadpeople before and survived it. So just...be present. Be romantic. Be—

Our lips met.

It was...technically correct.

His mouth was cool. The pressure was gentle. His hand rested lightly on my waist like he was trying not to leave fingerprints.

It was fine.

So why did I feel like a robot performing a firmware update?

I pulled back slightly. Smiled. Too brightly.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said. “And, you know, the unexpectedly flawless wine pairing.”

He smiled. “Do you want to...?”

He didn’t finish the sentence, just looked toward my building.

I panicked.

Was that theDo you want me to come uplook?

Or theDo you want to kiss again, but better this timelook?

Was I supposed to want either?

“I’ve got an early morning,” I blurted. “Big work thing. Crazy project. Probably need to, you know, crash early. Recharge. Mentally reset. Like a plant.”

Like a plant.

I said it. Out loud.

He blinked. “Totally. Rest is important.”

We stood there in silence for another half-beat. Too short to be intimate. Too long to be casual.

“I’ll text you,” he said.

I nodded. “Cool. Texting is...great.”

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