Can you keep a secret?

First dates are terrifying.

Sure, we’ve met a few times before. Crossing paths at the local cafe, finding him in a quiet corner of the library, saying hello and getting his number at what turned out to be a shared favorite bar; all of that is nothing compared to the prospect of an actual date.

I unplug my curling iron and sigh, staring at myself in the mirror. I have half an hour to meet him at the ice cream shop. I can’t be late, but I certainly can’t be early. That leaves me with fifteen minutes to sit and stress, undistracted. 

I close my eyes and scan through my mental checklist one more time. Lipstick? Check.  Drink test nail polish? Put it on before lunch. Pepper spray? Sitting very obviously in the top of my purse. 

“All you’re missing is a little confidence,” I mutter to myself, finally standing up and brushing my jeans off. 

I nearly crash the car trying to park when I see him standing outside the door to the shop with a bright smile on his face. In his hands are two mint-chip ice creams. 

“Thanks,” I say, blushing as he hands me the ice cream.

“Mint-chip’s your favorite, right?” he asks. “I remember you talking about ‘those idiots who say it tastes like toothpaste’ with your friend at the cafe.”

I nod. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid.”

We walk as we eat, savoring the last few liquid spoonfuls under the melting sun. “What were you like as a kid?” he asks. 

I glance at him, noticing the golden halo the sunset places over his head. “I was pretty shy,” I admit. “Didn’t like strangers. What about you?”

“I was the kid who didn’t like letting strangers be strange for long,” he laughs. “My parents always told me I asked too many questions.”

“I bet you made a lot of friends that way.”

He just shrugs. “I was actually more of a loner.”

“A loner extrovert?” I muse. “I’ve never met one of those.”

“People got caught on my sharp edges a lot,” he laughs. 

I furrow my eyebrows jokingly. “Psh, what sharp edges?”

“Stick with me long enough and you’ll find out,” he says. I’m surprised by the dark expression on his face. The joking atmosphere suddenly feels ten degrees colder, and I shiver a bit. 

“Are you cold?” he asks. The grim look dissipates in mere seconds.

“A bit,” I tell him. “I guess I didn’t come prepared for the nighttime weather.”

He stops walking and shrugs off his coat. “Here,” he says as he wraps it around my shoulders. My heart jumps. “Is that better?”

I pull the coat closer and smile at him. “Thank you.”

“Just one of my gentlemanly duties,” he replies with a chuckle. 

We roam around the park for another hour. The sky is completely dark, lit only by streetlights dotting the side of the road. He turns, leading us back to the ice cream shop, but I barely notice. I’m too wrapped up: in his coat, in our conversation, in that smile. 

“The constellations are bright tonight,” he says, stopping by a park bench. 

I sit on the cold bench, resting for a moment. I tilt my head up, studying the night sky. 

He points across the park, trying to help me identify a certain bright star. “See that one?” he asks. When I finally find it, he draws the lines connecting it to the rest of the constellation. “That’s Gemini. It’s my Zodiac.”

I marvel at it for a moment. “Funny to think it looked like twins to someone. I don’t think I could be creative enough to find that kind of picture in the stars,” I tell him. 

He nods. “There’s always what you see and there’s always the truth. They’re not necessarily the same.” His voice drops off at the end of his sentence as though he’s thinking about something. 

“Wise words,” I compliment with a quick smile. “Where’s Pisces? That’s my Zodiac.”

“Not sure,” he answers honestly. “I only ever learned what Gemini looked like. I tend to have a one-track mind like that.”

“Interesting,” I say. “I don’t think I would ever learn just a part of the whole. If you learn what one Zodiac constellation looks like, you might as well learn all of them, in my opinion.” 

“My history professor has a thing for how ‘knowledge is always incomplete’,” he laughs. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your car.”

He extends his hand to me and I take it, letting him pull me up. His jacket slides off my shoulders, but when I bend down to pick it up, my purse falls open and spills its contents over the sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, entirely embarrassed. I knew this night somehow seemed to be going too well. All it takes is one clumsy moment to ruin the mood. 

“No worries,” he says. I pick up the coat first, not wanting to leave his belongings on the ground longer than my own. He starts picking my things up and putting them back in the purse. I watch as his hand lands on the pepper spray and he pauses for a moment. Then he shoves it in the purse and stands. “I’ll take this for you,” he offers. 

“Oh, thanks,” I reply, still embarrassed. Better to let him hold it than drop everything again. 

He falls silent as we walk back to my car. I don’t dare try to break the new awkwardness, knowing I’ll probably ruin things further. Stupid, stupid, I tell myself. It was going so well before. 

I try to fall behind to ease the weird tension, but every time I slow so does he. It’s like he refuses to let me out of his sight. Things are starting to get uncomfortable, and all I want to do now is go home. 

I sigh in relief when we turn a corner and see my car. This time I try to speed up, but he suddenly steps in front of me, blocking my path. He turns to face me.

“Oh, I, uh, I...” I stumble over my words. “I had fun tonight, thanks,” I manage to spit out. 

“I’m not done,” he replies. His lips are set into a grave line.

I inhale sharply. “Can I take my purse back?”

“Sure,” he replies smoothly. “I’ll take my jacket, too.”

I peel the coat off my shoulders and hand it to him. He slips into it, sticking one of his hands in his pocket. I can just barely see that it’s clenched into a fist.

“I’ll get going, then,” I say nervously as he hands my purse back to me. 

“I suppose there’s a reason I don’t make many friends,” he says suddenly. I try to slip by him, but he blocks my way again. 

“I can’t imagine one,” I tell him, trying not to sound as unsure as I feel all of a sudden. 

I glance down to his coat pocket as he slowly draws his hand out. Something metal glints in the light, and I step backwards. 

“Ice cream was a good way to introduce my sharp edges, don’t you think?” he asks. I don’t say anything. All I can think is that if I was so terrified of a first date, I should’ve just stayed home. It would’ve been less scary than this. 

He draws his hand out of his pocket. A switchblade gleams under the streetlight. “Like I said, not everything is as it seems.”

He steps forward, and I freeze. I have nowhere to go where he won’t catch me. 

He smiles, but it’s nothing like the radiant one from before. “Can you keep a secret?”