Gary lingered near the bar pretending he was exactly where he wanted to be, which was a skill he’d perfected over many disappointing evenings.

The pub hummed around him. Laughter. Music. Glasses clinking. Life continuing with infuriating enthusiasm. Somewhere behind the bar, the dentist moved with calm efficiency, smiling at customers like her face wasn’t actively trying to escape her skull.

Gary shifted his jaw experimentally and immediately regretted it.

Right. Enough hovering. He was starting to feel like a haunted coat rack.

He caught her eye again. This time she didn’t look away. Instead, she gave a small, encouraging nod. Not flirtatious. Not professional. Somewhere in between. An invitation that said come sit down before you collapse.

Gary took this as a sign from the universe. Or from alcohol. Hard to say.

He picked up his pint and began the careful walk toward the table she was clearing, every step accompanied by a dull throb in his jaw and a louder throb of optimism. Halfway there, someone clapped him on the shoulder.

“Alright, Gaz?”

Gary flinched so hard he nearly dropped his drink.

“Yep,” he said, voice tight. “Living the dream.”

His mate squinted at him. “You look rough.”

“Charismatic,” Gary corrected. “It’s a vibe.”

The dentist glanced over again, eyebrow raised. Gary smiled back, a controlled, minimal smile designed to move as few facial muscles as possible.

He was committed now.

Sit down with her properly → Page 31

Abort mission and retreat to the bar → Page 39