Branded: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

and live that life you want to live for him. I didn’t know him, but I know he wouldn’t want you to be a hermit, right?” She tilts her head to the left and regards me closely. “So I think it’s great you’re going to go out with Isaac. Even if just as friends, to have some fun, and get to know him. What’s the harm in that?”
“His job.”
“You can’t hide from every fireman you come across, Sawyer.”
I groan and put my head in my hands again. “So you think I should text him instead of waiting?”
“I do. Take the bull by the horns… or the fireman by the hose.” With a wiggle of her brows, she dives into her breakfast, confident she made her point.
Before I lose my nerve, I pick up my phone and fire off a quick text to him.
Me: Drunk me is clearly more vocal. LOL. Still interested in taking me out or did I scare you off?
I place the phone face down on the table so I can’t stare at it while I wait for a reply. I’ll finish breakfast, take the morning slow, cure this massive hangover, and then I’ll look.
An hour passes before I finally come back to the table and flip my phone over, revealing two texts have arrived on my phone.
One shortly after I sent the first text, then other fifteen minutes after that.
Isaac: It would take more than an adorably drunk woman calling me hot to scare me off.
Isaac: Absolutely still want to take you out. In fact, date #1, tomorrow night. Meet me at the corner of 5th and Main at 7 p.m. How does that sound?
My heart races at the idea of this actually happening, of me actually going out with him. The anxiety is real, so real I nearly ghost him completely, but I close my eyes and summon my inner extrovert, the one who existed in me years ago.
Me: I’ll be there.
 

Chapter 6
Sawyer
What do you even wear on a first date with a man you really don’t know at all, when you don’t even know what you’re doing or where you’re going, and when you’re nervous as hell?
Apparently, you change outfits a dozen times before deciding on casual blue jeans, black flats, and a simple, pink flowy top. I wear my hair back in a sleek ponytail and slide in a pair of diamond studs my family gave me for my eighteenth birthday.
I sit in my car at the parking meter for far too long, until I literally have to get out or he’s going to think I’ve bailed on him, and that’s the last thing I want.
I slide my crossbody on and climb from my car.
When I round the corner onto the street I’m supposed to be meeting him on, I stop when I see him standing there.
He’s scrolling through his phone with one hand in his pocket, dressed in dark jeans and a short-sleeve, white T-shirt. His hair, dark and rich, is perfectly messy in that sexy, annoying way guys manage to pull off.
The streets aren’t as busy as I expect them to be for a Sunday night, especially since the fall hours mean cooler weather and earlier sunsets.
I finally make my way closer until he senses the movement of me coming up to his side and raises his face toward mine.
“You made it,” he says simply, and that damn smile greets me like an old friend.
“I did. Sorry I’m a little late. I just… I’m a little nervous is all.” I shrug a little. If I’m really going to give this a chance, I figure honesty is the best policy.
He slides his phone into his back pocket. “If I’m honest, I’m a little nervous too.”
“You are?”
I’m honestly shocked he even admitted that to me. Every man I’ve ever been with in my life would rather chop off his own arm than be vulnerable, so this is refreshing.
“I’m on a first date with a beautiful woman. If a man ever tells you he’s not nervous in that situation, he’s lying.”
“Then I’m happy we are equal footing.” I shift nervously.
“What do you say we head on inside and have a drink before things get started?”
“What are we doing exactly?”
“You’ll see.” He smiles wickedly. “Shall we?”
He places his hand on the small of my back and shivers climb up my spine in the best way. His touch is warm and kind. There is nothing about it that makes me feel uncomfortable or pressured.
“We shall, Mr. Black. Lead the way.”
***
“Haven’t you ever done this before?” I sip my sweet moscato from the stemless glass, as I watch him very carefully and very slowly slice a cucumber into strips.
I don’t know what I was expecting for a first date with him, but making sushi from scratch in a cooking class certainly wasn’t it.
“Not exactly, but I’ve got it. How hard can it be?”
He squints in concentration. I’ve offered to take over after I prepped the sticky sushi rice with sugar and vinegar, but he’s determined. Clearly.
The room is laid out like a swanky home economics room. There are a dozen individual cooking areas, complete with everything you could need to make a meal, plus the instruction area at the front.
Every cooking station is occupied by two people, wine is flowing, conversation is being had. It’s easy. It’s nice.
I watch him closely as he makes the final slice into the cucumber and places the knife down.
“Got it.” A huge smile appears on his face.
I just giggle. “Nicely done.”
We set out to start building our sushi rolls, working in tandem, one roll each at a time. We work in sync surprisingly fast, like we’ve done this many times before.
“So how long have you lived in Sunnyville?”
I pat out a layer of rice onto my nori then answer, “I’ve been here almost a year.”
“Why here? I mean, it’s not exactly a place that people flock to. There’s usually a reason. It’s a small area.”
The truth isn’t exactly first