Whatever. I order my iced vanilla latte and take it back to the small marble table. After spending an hour trekking out here, I sure as hell am not going to head home in under five minutes. And I’m even surer as hell not leaving without coffee first.

I slip into the open chair and hold out my hand. Not going to lie, I definitely do not remember this guy’s name, but I’m finding it difficult to care much at this point. “Nice to officially meet you.”

His hand envelops mine, shaking firmly. “It’s Jack, Jack Thomas.”

“Jack.” At least he’s cool enough to not shame me for forgetting. “Sadie Green.”

“Yes, I know.” He reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a file folder. “So why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

My brow furrows as he flips open the folder and pulls a pen from somewhere hidden in the depths of his hair.

Um, what? Is this a date or a job interview?

“What exactly would you like to know, Jack?” I raise one eyebrow—a trick I spent many hours in the mirror perfecting—and take a sip of my coffee.

He doesn’t even look at me. “Let’s start with the usual. Job, hobbies, et cetera.”

I should’ve chosen the cocktails option on the dating app, because despite just yesterday swearing off booze forever, I’m going to need a drink to get through this. “Well, I’m a financial analyst.” The words are out before I realize they’re not exactly the truth. But whatever. They’ll be true again soon enough. “Went to Columbia, yada yada yada. But honestly, that’s like the least interesting thing about me.”

“Your job is the least interesting thing about you?” He scratches a note on whatever paper he has in his folder, finally removing his gaze from said paper to glance at me, though he still doesn’t meet my eyes, focusing instead somewhere behind me.

But whoa. Even without direct eye contact, my breath still catches in my chest. Jack might have very little going for him in the presentation department, but his eyes are low-key magic, the greenest I’ve ever seen on a real human being. The color of moss or emeralds or some other poetic shit like that.

He clears his throat when I fail to answer his question.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I busy myself with another quick sip of coffee, which I just barely manage not to choke on.

“You said your job is the least interesting thing about you?” His attention returns to the file folder.

I force out a fake laugh. “I mean, isn’t that true for most people?” At least those who have jobs. Unlike me.

He frowns. “I sure hope not.”

Okay, Judgy McJudgerton. “Well, what do you do for a living, Jack?”