“I think they have a couple performances left in the season.” Brayden hesitated once more. “I’d see it again if you wanted to go. Though I’ll warn you—it’s one of those reinterpreted Shakespeare productions. Modern clothes.”

“I don’t mind. That kind of reinterpretation is what makes Shakespeare timeless.” The words rolled automatically off my lips. As they did, I suddenly had one of those epiphany moments where I realized there was more going on than I’d initially thought. I replayed Brayden’s words. Between that and Trey’s enormous grin, I soon had a startling realization. This was the guy Trey had been telling me about. My “soul mate.” And he was asking me out.

“This is a great idea,” said Trey. “You kids should totally go see that play. Make a whole day of it. Grab some dinner and hang out at the library or whatever it is you do for fun.”

Brayden met my eyes. His were hazel, almost like Eddie’s but with a little green. Not as much green as Adrian’s, of course. No one’s eyes were that amazingly green. Brayden’s brown hair occasionally picked up glints of gold in the light and was cut in a no-nonsense way that showed off the angles of his cheekbones. I had to admit, he was pretty cute. “They perform Thursday through Sunday,” he said. “I’ve got a debate tournament over the weekend… could you do it Thursday night?”

“I…” Could I? There was nothing planned, so far as I knew. About twice a week, I took Jill to the home of Clarence Donahue, an old Moroi who had a feeder. Thursday wasn’t a scheduled feeding night, though, and technically I wasn’t obligated to go to experiment nights.

“Of course she’s free,” Trey jumped in before I could even answer. “Right, Sydney?”

“Yes,” I said, shooting him a look. “I’m free.”

Brayden smiled. I smiled back. Nervous silence fell. He seemed as unsure as I was about how to proceed. I would have thought it was cute, if I wasn’t so worried that I looked ridiculous.

Trey elbowed him sharply. “This is the part where you ask for her number.”

Brayden nodded, though he didn’t look like he appreciated the elbowing. “Right, right.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Is it Sydney with a y or i?” Trey rolled his eyes. “What? I’m guessing the former, but as naming conventions become increasingly untraditional, you never know. I just want to get it right in my phone.”

“I would have done the same thing,” I agreed. I then told him my phone number.

He looked up and smiled at me. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” I said, and actually meant it.

I left Spencer’s in a daze. I had a date. How on earth did I have a date?

Trey hurried out to me a few moments later, catching me as I was unlocking my car. He still wore his barista apron. “Well?” he asked. “Was I right, or was I right?”