Nilla was sipping her iced vanilla latte when her apartment door burst open like a SWAT team had been waiting for clearance.
"**Agent Wells reporting for debrief!**" Sarah yelled as she marched in, wearing aviator sunglasses and dragging Max behind her.
Max, in true gremlin boyfriend form, wore a headband with fuzzy cat ears and held a glitter-covered clipboard. "Operation: Princess Peach has reached Level Two," he intoned dramatically.
Nilla blinked, mid-sip. "Do you two have *nothing* better to do?"
"Nope," Sarah said, plopping down on the couch. "Now tell us *everything*. Did he kiss you? Sober kiss? Tongue or no tongue? Emotional intimacy unlocked? Tell us. *Tell us!*"
Max held up the clipboard. "There's a rating scale. One to ten. Bonus points for tongue."
Nilla facepalmed. "You're both insane."
"Sweetie," Sarah said sweetly, "this is *spy protocol*. If you didn't want this, you shouldn't have upgraded from Theo 1.0 to Theo Kiss-Me-Sober 2.0."
"I'll allow the naming convention," Max added, crossing something off on the clipboard.
"Okay, okay!" Nilla laughed, hands up in surrender. "Yes, he kissed me. Yes, it was sober. No, I will not elaborate. And yes, it was good enough that my knees gave out when I stood up afterward."
Sarah squealed. Max fist-pumped the air like he'd won the Super Bowl.
"Now that Level Two has been confirmed," Sarah said in her most official voice, "when's the first real date? You know, the one with eye contact and possibly dessert."
Nilla smirked, pulling out her phone. "Funny you mention that…"
As if summoned by the universe, a text from Theo popped up right then.
> **Theo:** So… any chance I can tempt you with dinner tomorrow night? Just you, me, and a menu that doesn't involve delivery drivers judging us.
> **Theo:** I'll even wear real pants.
Nilla read it aloud. Sarah clutched her chest like she'd been shot with Cupid's arrow.
"HE'S WEARING REAL PANTS. MARRY HIM," she declared.
Max fake-sobbed into the clipboard. "I never thought I'd see the day."
Nilla laughed so hard she had to set down her drink. "I'm saying yes, you weirdos. I *like* him."
Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. "Good. Because if you didn't, I was ready to seduce him for revenge."
"MAX," Nilla yelped, "get your girlfriend."
"She's your problem now," he said, grabbing a donut from Nilla's kitchen and heading to the door. "We're just happy you're happy, Nill. Text us if he does anything too dreamy. We have a swoon log."
As the door closed behind them, Nilla looked at the text again and smiled. Dinner with Theo. A real date. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something steady, sweet, and just the right amount of spicy.
Nilla stood outside the restaurant's front entrance, clutching her clutch like it was a lifeline.
"You survived the war," she whispered to herself.
Because make no mistake: getting here had required surviving *Sarah's Closet War of 2025*.
**Flashback: Four hours earlier.**
Nilla held up a simple black dress. "This is nice, right? Classic?"
Sarah snatched it from her hands like a dramatic stylist on a fashion competition show. "This screams 'I'm here for a tax audit.' You're going on a date, not trying to sell him life insurance."
"Okay, *rude*—"
"Try *this*," Sarah said, holding up a deep green wrap dress that hugged every curve Nilla had. "It says: I'm a confident woman with legs that go for days, and I drink my coffee with oat milk because I respect myself."
Max, lounging on the bed eating chips, chimed in: "It also says, 'You'd better call me the next day or I'll key your car with flair.'"
Two hours, five outfit changes, three fashion crises, and one accidental flash of underboob later, Nilla was finally dressed and emotionally scarred.
**Back to the present.**
She pushed the door open. The restaurant was softly lit, cozy, and somehow made her feel like she was stepping into a secret date dimension. And there he was. Theo stood near their table, button-up shirt perfectly fitted, sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms that had *no business* looking that good. He turned and saw her. And smiled. Like—really smiled. The kind of smile that made her knees threaten mutiny.
"Wow," he said, walking over to meet her halfway. "You look... incredible."
She blushed despite herself. "Thanks. It only took one fashion war, a glass of wine, and a best friend threatening to glue rhinestones to my butt."
Theo grinned. "Was that one of the options? I feel like I missed out."
She laughed, finally relaxing. "Trust me, you don't want to know how close we were to a 'revenge dress' moment."
"I like this one," he said softly, eyes scanning her outfit with appreciation. "It's very... you. Confident. Beautiful."
God help her, her heart *melted* just a little.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Anderson," she said, letting him guide her to the table.
"I'm counting on it," he replied.
As they sat down and opened their menus, Nilla couldn't help but think—this was different. Easy. Flirty without pressure. And full of the kind of butterflies that didn't make her stomach drop, but rather flutter. Maybe all the chaos, pain, and rhinestone threats had really been leading her here. To dinner with a man who saw her—*really* saw her—and liked what he saw. Even if it came wrapped in war-won green silk and a touch of Sarah's fashion vengeance.