"Hi, my name is Heather, and I used to be a man."

It was her favorite intro during speed-dating. With that aside, Heather was less likely to raise her hopes only to have them later crushed.

Not that she hoped for anything with the man currently seated across from her, anyway; he was a decade too young, with bleach-blond hair and biceps bigger than his head. The kind of shallow bro who drank three protein shakes a day and made jokes about penis size in the locker room.

This would be a long five minutes.

To his credit, protein-shake bro pulled up his dropped jaw quickly and even managed a smile. "Sorry, that's just... I never would have guessed."

"Ah."

He raked a hand through his too-blond hair. "I mean that you're actually very... fuck, this is coming out all wrong."

"Look"—Heather glanced at his hastily-scrawled nametag—"Brad." Of course his name is fucking Brad. "You don't have to pretend to be interested. I'm not that easily offended. And I'm too old for you, anyway."

"I'm not that young."

She cocked a wary eyebrow at his earnest rebuttal. "Oh?"

He drew a big breath, as if to suck back in the words—but then he doubled down on them. "Maybe you shouldn't write me off so quickly, Heather. Unless you find me unappealing, in which case, I certainly can't blame you. I know I'm a bit, um..." He scratched the back of his head, and the wrinkled sleeves of his dress shirt pulled taut over his biceps. "I'm not stupid, but I always say stupid things when I'm nervous."

"And I make you nervous?"

"No! I mean, yes. But only because you're..." His eyes dropped to his hands. "You're very pretty, Heather."

Oh boy, he was flushing red now. It was rather sweet, actually. Despite herself, a smile inched across her face.

Brad peeked at her from beneath blonde eyelashes, and his lips hooked in a crooked grin.

Gah, a dimple! What a cutie!

He's way too young for me, Heather scolded herself, but that didn't stop her heart from thumping faster.

"I don't, for the record," she admitted, slightly breathless.

"Don't what?"

Heather fiddled with a brown curl. "Find you unappealing."

His grin broadened. "Then maybe you'd like to—" His gaze flitted to the tent's entrance behind Heather's shoulders.

His smile dropped; his eyes widened.

The geckos invaded.

Critters swarmed through the pink frills at the tent's entrance and scrambled over several of the nearest tables. A long-haired event coordinator snatched a bunny chewing on a speaker cord, and a purple-haired assistant nabbed a hamster.

Heather sighed and turned toward her date. "Well, I suppose we should help with the... Brad?"

He stood on top of his chair, gesturing wildly toward the ground. "S-snake!"

Following his gaze, Heather watched a snake slither over the shiny Oxfords of a large-bellied man. She turned back to Brad, who was ashen-faced but still somehow adorable.

More adorable than ever, actually.

She straightened her shoulders and stepped between the snake and Brad's chair. "It's just a garter snake. It won't hurt you."

"I know, but I have... I have a..."

"A snake phobia?"

He nodded mutely.

Emboldened by a rush of protectiveness, she strutted straight toward the wriggling reptile. A waitress hauled over an empty wine cooler, and Heather plucked the unfortunate creature from the ground and plopped it in. It slinked out of sight with a resigned hiss.

The timer buzzed.

Heather's shoulders sank. So soon? She had no idea if things would have gone further between her and Brad, but she would have liked to find out.

She glanced back at Brad. He didn't appear to notice the timer. His eyes fixed on her, teeth trapping the corner of a bashful smile halfway between embarrassment and admiration.

She approached his chair and offered him a hand. He accepted it with a laugh and hopped off the chair. When his feet planted firmly on the ground, their hands remained connected. She wasn't quite sure if it was his fault or hers. She only knew that she loved the feeling of his larger, more callused hand enveloping hers.

Gentle, but firm. Shy, but certain.

The woman heading the event corralled people back to their seats, and a buzz announced the start of the next speed-date. Brad and Heather remained standing, heads tipped down, smiles bashful.

"You know," he told her, "I was afraid at first that you might be one of those too-pretty mean girls."

She snorted a laugh. "Well, I am sometimes mean. For example, I first judged you as a shallow gym bro who drinks three protein shakes a day."

His laugh joined hers. "That's ridiculous. I only drink two protein shakes a day."

"Really?"

He flipped up a defensive palm, though his smile did not wane. "They're delicious. And speaking of delicious... how about I buy some bubble tea to thank my dame in shining armor?"

She cocked her head, pretending to consider. "What if we encounter another snake?"

"Well, just in case, I better keep holding your hand."

~~~~~~

spelunkadunk
Dunk writes character-driven fantasy-romance with unexpected twists on common tropes. Expect flawed heroes of every race, gender, and orientation facing seemingly insurmountable threats while falling in love.
A warning: dark topics/themes
A promise: always a happy ending