Page 3 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

The scent of espresso and buttery pastries hits me the second we step inside the coffee shop.

It’s cozy, all warm wood tones and the low hum of indie music.

A chalkboard menu hangs above the counter, and an array of eclectic seating fills the space.

It reminds me of my favorite coffee shop back home.

Gray pauses beside me, scanning the room with a thoughtful hum before heading toward a small table in the corner. He pulls out a chair and gives me a quick smile. “Ladies first.”

I blink at him. “Chivalry? In the wild?”

He grins, and something in me unwinds a little. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

I sit as he takes the seat across from me. Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could handle him sitting next to me, not with how my brain short-circuits every time he moves.

“So,” he says, folding his hands on the table, “are you always this nervous around guys who you randomly approach on the sidewalk, or am I just special?”

My jaw drops. “I am not nervous. ”

He tilts his head, eyes playful. “Really? Because you’ve already rearranged the sugar packets like…three times.”

I look down. Yep. I’ve made a perfect little lineup of raw sugar, Stevia, and Splenda.

I nudge them aside with a groan. “Okay, maybe a little nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he says, and his tone softens. “This isn’t a job interview. There are no wrong answers…unless you order decaf.”

That makes me laugh, and just like that, the knot in my chest loosens a little more.

He glances toward the counter. “What’s your coffee order?”

“Vanilla oat milk latte,” I answer without hesitation.

“Got it.” He nods like he’s committing it to memory.

As he heads toward the register, I pull out my phone. A quick text to Harper and Olivia.

Ivy

Still alive. Still holding hands. Now there’s coffee involved

I set my phone back in my bag, unable to resist watching him instead.

He stands there with that unhurried ease, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing as he talks to the barista.

His thumb brushes his jaw, then his chin, like he’s working something out in his head.

He sways slightly while he waits, shoulders relaxed, head tilted so the light catches in his dark hair.

Then, as if he can feel my gaze on him, he glances over his shoulder. Our eyes meet. A pause. A smirk. And then—a slow, deliberate wink that knocks the breath right out of my lungs .

I quickly look away, pretending I’m not grinning like I’ve lost all self-control.

A moment later, he’s back, setting my latte in front of me before sliding into the seat across from mine, his coffee in hand.

I tilt my head, curious. “What’d you get?”

“Black coffee,” he says without hesitation. “It’s the only way to go.”

I make a face, wrapping my hands around my latte. “Only way for who? Cavemen?”

His mouth quirks into a grin. “Nah. For people with taste.”

I lift my cup in mock offense. “This is taste.”

He chuckles, the tension easing as our cups clink lightly against each other.

There’s something about him. Sure, he’s handsome in a sharp, unfair kind of way, but it’s more than that. He has this calmness, like nothing rattles him. Like he trusts the moment, even if he doesn’t know where it’s going. It makes me want to lean in and ask questions.

“So,” I say, placing my hands in my lap in an attempt to stop fidgeting, “you from around here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m just visiting.”

I wait for more, but he doesn’t offer it, just stares at me like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Are you always this mysterious?”

“Only on Fridays,” he says without missing a beat.

I snort. “Lucky me.”

He leans in slightly, elbow on the table, like we’re already old friends. “Okay, your turn. Why New Orleans?”

“My friends and I do a yearly girls’ trip,” I say. “This year, we picked this beautiful city. Beignets, jazz, good food, what’s not to love? ”

“Solid choice,” he says, nodding. “And I’m guessing I was a…spontaneous addition to the itinerary?”

My cheeks flush. “Yeah, I didn’t exactly plan on grabbing a stranger’s hand today.”

Gray raises a brow, amused. “Really? Because you did it like a pro.”

I cover my face with one hand, groaning. “It was just a dare.”

Gray leans back in his chair, lips quirking like he’s not buying it. “Was it?”

I open my mouth to answer, then close it again. My pulse does this weird skip, and I suddenly forget how words work.

Gray watches me with a quiet curiosity, his elbow propped on the table, fingers brushing his jaw.

“You sure you’re not scared?” he asks, voice light, teasing. “Because you’re blinking like someone just told you your coffee was decaf.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “Okay, maybe I am a little nervous.”

He grins. “Good. That makes two of us.”

My eyes widen. “You? Nervous?”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Well, not right now. But you should’ve seen me when you grabbed my hand. I thought maybe I was getting pickpocketed by the world’s sweetest-looking criminal.”

I laugh, tension melting off my shoulders. “You’re hilarious.”

“Possibly,” he says. “But also charming, right?”

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “That’s still up for debate.”

He grins, then glances down at his cup. “You know, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come here with me. You looked like you might bolt.”

“I thought about it,” I admit.

His eyes meet mine again, warmer now. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

The words settle somewhere low in my stomach.

I clear my throat. “You’re just…a little intimidating.”

Gray looks genuinely surprised. “Me?”

I gesture toward him. “You’ve got that whole ‘tall, dark, and probably-rides-a-motorcycle’ vibe. And the tattoos? Definitely don’t help.”

He laughs, a full, easy sound that turns heads in the café. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never even ridden a motorcycle.”

“I bet you own a leather jacket though,” I tease.

“Guilty.” He pauses, then adds with a wink, “Though I’m still missing someone to steal it and never give it back.”

I grin. “So, you’re only moderately intimidating.”

“Moderately attractive too, I assume?”

The question catches me off guard. My cheeks heat instantly, and I look down, smiling into my coffee.

Gray leans in just a little, voice low but still soft. “You don’t have to answer. Your face is saying enough.”

I peek up at him, trying not to smile, but fail big time.

Then he lifts his hand and gently taps under my chin, coaxing my gaze back to his.

“I like you, Ivy,” he says simply. “I wasn’t expecting this spontaneous date to happen today, but here we are.”

There’s no pressure in the way he says it. No intensity, no edge. Just honesty, and maybe a tiny spark of hope.

My heart does that fluttery thing again, but this time, it’s not fear. It’s curiosity. It’s excitement. It’s the unmistakable thrill of being seen and liked .

I look at him for a beat longer than I probably should.

And then I smile. “I might like you too.”

I lean back; fingers wrapped around my mug. “Okay, wait—you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

Gray’s brows lift, a slow grin tugging at his mouth. “Why? You jealous?”

My face heats. “No! I just…I mean, you grabbed my hand too. Technically.”

He chuckles, leaning in slightly, his eyes warm and teasing. “For the record, you grabbed mine first.”

“Technicalities,” I mumble, swirling my coffee, hoping he can’t see how fast my heart’s racing.

Gray tips his head. “If I had a girlfriend, do you think I’d be here with you?”

And just like that, the world tilts, the coffee forgotten, and I fall harder than I ever meant to.

We fall into an easy rhythm, and it feels so rare and effortless.

We keep talking, drifting from one topic to the next like we’ve known each other for more than just a coffee and a dare.

The conversation drifts from our favorite snacks to the worst movies we’ve ever seen, then somehow back to our childhood dreams. Gray listens like no one has ever listened to me, with real focus.

He asks questions, not just to fill the air, but because he genuinely wants to know.

“So, what did little Ivy want to be when she grew up?” he asks, leaning back like he’s settling in for a good story.

I laugh. “A baker. I had this whole plan to drive a cupcake truck around town, handing out happiness one sprinkle at a time.”

“Cupcake truck? That’s adorable,” he says, grinning. “You’d have been famous. ”

I nudge his foot under the table. “Okay, your turn. Let me guess...rockstar?”

His smile tilts, a little sheepish but proud. “Bingo.” He glances down at his hands for a second before meeting my eyes again. “But I didn’t necessarily want the fame. I just loved the way music could say what I never could.”

This has me admitting I have a soft spot for early 2000s boy bands, and I give a whole spiel about how they got me through my middle school years.

“You’re serious?” he asks, nearly choking on his drink.

“Dead serious,” I say, sipping smugly. “Backstreet Boys over NSYNC, obviously.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

I lean in, smirking. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a favorite.”

“I absolutely didn’t,” he insists, though his mouth is twitching.

“Liar.”

And just like that, we’re both laughing. It’s real, honest laughter that fills the space between us. It’s easy. Fun. The kind of moment that feels like it could stretch on forever if you let it.

And when I catch my breath, I swear something in Gray’s face changes. It softens. Like he’s just as surprised by how right this feels as I am.

But eventually, the moment begins to settle. I glance at my empty cup, wishing it wasn’t.

I look up and he’s already watching me.

My heart gives a small, unexpected tug. I don’t want to go.

And judging by the quiet shift in his posture, the way his fingers tap restlessly on the table, I don’t think he wants me to either.

The air thickens, not with tension, but with possibility.

Then, my phone rings, shattering the spell.

I jump, fumbling in my bag until Olivia’s name glows on the screen.