Just as he was about to greet her, his phone buzzed. 

He glanced down — a message from Nadine.  A quick check, a short reply, and then he slid the phone into his pocket. 

“Allie,” he said, his voice distracted but warm, “good morning.”

“Good morning!” she replied, bright as always. She tilted her head, teasing. “You’re busy already, huh? Texting this early? That’s new.”

Curtis’s phone buzzed again. He checked it, thumb flying across the screen, then looked up, slightly flustered. 

“Not really. A coworker just texted me — said the boss wants to talk to me.” His lips curved into a small, bashful grin. “But hey, you’ll be proud of me. I actually recommended you to my coworkers.” 

Allie raised a brow, pretending to fan herself dramatically. “Oh my, Mr. Harper, what an honor.” 

Curtis laughed under his breath, the sound low and genuine. 

He ordered his usual dark roast — and then added another drink to the order. Allie hesitated for a second, curious, but didn’t ask. It wasn’t her place, and besides, she was just glad to see him looking so comfortable lately. 

Once his order was ready, he thanked her with a soft smile. “See you later.” 

 And just like that, he was gone — the door chime fading behind him, leaving Allie staring at the counter longer than she meant to. 

At the office, the day moved in its usual blur of tapping keyboards and muted conversation. Curtis dropped his bag at his desk, took a steadying breath, and walked toward Nadine’s cubicle. She was already there, black hair twisted into her signature low messy bun, reading over reports. 

He held out the drink. “Iced macchiato, almond milk — right?”

Nadine looked up, surprised, then smiled. “You remembered. Thank you.” 

“Anytime,” he said simply, then nodded toward the corner office.

“Wish me luck. Rogers wants to see me.” 

 She gave a small laugh. “You’ll do fine.” 

Their eyes met briefly — a beat longer than necessary — before he headed off. 

When he emerged minutes later, Nadine caught him near the hallway. “Hey—thanks again for the coffee, really.” 

Curtis smiled. “Don’t mention it.” 

Before either could say more, Mr. Rogers’s voice called from his office again. “Curtis! Quick minute, please!” 

Curtis excused himself and disappeared once more, leaving Nadine standing there, her untouched drink slowly sweating in her hand. By lunchtime, Curtis was out the door before anyone could stop him.  He’d been looking forward to this all morning — their shopping trip. It wasn’t that he couldn’t shop alone (he usually did). It was that going with Allie felt different. Lighter. Unpredictable. Something in him wanted to see where her energy would take him. 

When he reached the café, he spotted her right away — crouched by the door, petting a customer’s puppy. Her oversized denim jacket caught the light, her laughter spilling easily into the street. For a moment, he just watched. Then she looked up, saw him, and grinned so widely it made his chest tighten. 

“All done being adorable?” he asked, half-teasing.

 

“Never,” she said, brushing imaginary dog fur off her jacket. “Ready to go?” He nodded. “Did you wait long?” 

“Not at all.” She waved him off. “Come on, let’s go before you change your mind.” 

They started down the sidewalk, their steps falling naturally in sync. Halfway there, Curtis pulled out his phone, glancing at a neatly typed list.  Allie noticed immediately. “Wait… what’s that?” 

He looked guilty, like a kid caught sneaking homework into a party. “Just—uh—an itinerary.  A few stores I thought we could check out.  You know, to stay efficient.” 

 Allie stopped walking. “An itinerary? For shopping?” 

He nodded. “It helps with time management.”  

She burst out laughing.  “You’re impossible! Okay, how about this — we’ll keep your list, but only for reference. Today, we’re just going to have fun. No schedules, no planning.” 

Before he could object, she looped her arm through his and tugged him forward, giggling. “Let’s go, Mr. Spreadsheet.”

He sighed, pretending to protest, but the corner of his mouth curved upward anyway.  

At the shopping center, they hopped from one store to another, Allie leading the way like an excited tour guide. Curtis followed, amused by how easily she filled the space around them — chatting with store clerks, cracking jokes, giving him unsolicited fashion advice. 

In one boutique, she crossed her arms as he held up two shirts — one crisp white, one black with a subtle collar. 

“You honestly look good in anything,” she said, flustered at her own words. “But if I have to pick, the black one. Definitely.”

 

“Black it is,” he said softly, watching her with something unreadable in his eyes.  

They stopped for ice cream afterward, sitting on a bench outside as people drifted past — couples, kids, a man on a skateboard. 

The winter air bit lightly at their cheeks, but the moment felt warm.

“Thanks again, Coach,” Curtis said between spoonfuls. 

“My pleasure,” Allie replied, giving him a wink. 

A quiet stretch lingered between them. Neither spoke, but both felt the shift — that bittersweet awareness that their little arrangement, their project, was nearing its end. Curtis set his cup aside, turning to face her fully. 

“Allie… I just want you to know I’m really grateful I met you. This whole thing — it’s probably the best investment I’ve ever made.”

Allie laughed softly. “You make it sound like I’m part of your portfolio.” 

“I mean it,” he said. His voice was low, earnest. “I never thought I’d actually change. I grew up in a home where everything had a rule — schedules, structure, expectations. My parents meant well, but… I guess I just stopped taking risks. Stopped letting things happen on their own.” He paused, eyes distant. “When I was younger, my cousin passed away — he was wild, spontaneous, everything I wasn’t. I saw what that did to my family. I promised myself I’d never be the cause of that kind of pain. I thought control was safety.” 

Allie listened quietly, her hand finding his arm in a small, grounding gesture. “Maybe it was — for a while. But control and living aren’t the same thing, Curtis. You can be careful and brave.” Her words hung between them, light but heavy. 

Curtis exhaled slowly.   “You’re right. I think I’m finally learning that.” 

She smiled. “Then my job here is almost done.” 

He looked at her for a long moment — that warm, bright energy that seemed to follow her everywhere — and felt something twist deep in his chest. He never asked about her life. He never asked what drove her.  Maybe he was too afraid to. 

When they finally stood to leave, the sky had softened into pale pink streaks. 

Allie dusted her hands. “Alright, Mr. Harper, go have fun at your night out. Mingle. Be the charming new you.” 

He chuckled. “I’ll try. Thanks, Coach.” 

“Oh, and—” she pointed at him as she backed away with a grin, “—drink responsibly!” 

 “Yes, ma’am.”

She turned to go, waving once before melting into the evening crowd. 

Curtis watched her disappear down the street, her laughter faint but lingering — like a melody that refused to fade. He slipped his hands into his pockets, smiling to himself. 

Finally out of the box, he thought. 

 And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to crawl back in.