Evan Howell was beginning to suspect he was cursed.

  Seriously, what the hell was he doing wrong?

  Across the table sat—uh, what was her name again? Alyssa? Alicia? Too te to ask now. She wasn’t ugly by any means—actually kinda cute, if he were being objective—but judging by the way she was barely making eye tact, she had already checked out of the versation.

  Evan sighed internally.

  This time, he had done everything right.

  Dressed well? Chebsp;

  Booked a nice restaurant? Check.

  Kept the versation engaging? …Mostly check. Except for that part where he actally went on a five-minute miure about how he had optimised the cooling systems for a t.

  "Women love ambition," his coworkers said.

  "Women love fidehe i cimed.

  So why was Alyssa/Alicia scrolling through her phone mid-date?

  "Sorry," she said. "My friend just texted me. She, uh… is having a breakdown. I o be there for her."

  Ah, there it was.

  A moment ter, she was out the door faster than a ptop overheating without thermal paste.

  Evan sat back, staring at the untouched breadsticks.

  “…Well, that went great,” he muttered.

  Maybe he should just accept his fate and embraode forever.

  Or—since he was already here—he could at least treat himself.

  Screw it. I’m the sirloin.

  ***

  An hour ter, full of steak and slightly less full of existential despair, Evan drove straight to the gym.

  It ast 22:00—prime time for the "I hate my life, so I lift" crowd. A few dudes were still grinding out sets in the free weights se, but it was mostly empty.

  Perfect.

  Evan threw his bag into a locker, ged into his gym gear, a straight for the squat rao distras. No overthinking. Just lifting.

  Oe. Two ptes. Deep squat. Up. Down. trolled movement. Breath steady.

  By the time he finished his full-body workout, his muscles were shaking, and his brain had momentarily stopped reminding him that Dating.exe is not responding.

  Progress.

  ***

  After driving home, Evan peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the shower.

  Hot water pounded against his shoulders, easing the tension from his overworked muscles. The steam clouded the mirror, ing the bathroom in a warm haze. For a few minutes, he just stood there, letting everything drain.

  He then caught his refle in the mirror.

  A solid frame with visible signs of muscle mass. Not shredded though—not yet in a magazine-cover kind of way.

  Four years ago, ba uy, Evan decided he needed a ge. No social life, no fidence—so he started lifting. First, twice a month, then once a week, until he eventually settled into a three-day split.

  So this was four years ress.

  Not bad.

  But…

  25 years old. Det shape. Stable engineering job. Good money.

  Yet.

  Still aloill kissless. Still watg porn and jerking off like some teenager.

  And his eyes drifted downward.

  His dick hung heavy, resting against his thigh. Thick. Circumcised. The head a soft brown-pink. The shaft pale in trast.

  It wasn’t small. If anything, he robably above average.

  Not that it mattered.

  Because no one was going to see it.

  Evan exhaled sharply, rubbing a towel through his damp hair.

  "Am I seriously going to die a virgin?"

  The thought shouldn’t have hit so hard.

  But it did.

  ***

  The night, he logged into War Thunder, joining a squad with álvaro Cruz Martínez—his longtime Reddit gaming buddy.

  álvaro was one of the few people Evan actually ealking to. They had met a year ago on a nguage exge subreddit, where álvaro had tried to teach Evan Spanish (and failed spectacurly), and Evan had tried to improve álvaro’s English (and failed even harder).

  But at some point, their versations had shifted from grammar and pronunciation to gaming, fitness, dating, and life itself.

  The match loaded, and álvaro’s voice crackled through Discord.

  "Ehh-vahn, hermano! You ready to smash some ass?"

  Evan smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t crash your pne in the first five minutes."

  "Pfft. I do not crash. I make tactidings."

  The game started, and they fell into their usual banter. But before long, álvaro noticed something was off.

  "Oi. What’s wrong? You sound like you just got suplexed by life."

  Evan sighed, adjusting his aim. "Had another shit date yesterday."

  A beat of silence.

  Then—

  "Dios. You again?" álvaro chuckled. "Alright, tell me everything."

  So Evan expihe date, the awkward versation, the fake emergency excuse, the crushing feeling of "why do I even bother anymore?"

  When he finished, álvaro let out a deep sigh, like a man preparing to drop some wisdom.

  "Hermanito… the problem is not what you do, it’s how you do it."

  Evan frowned. "Yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?"

  "I don’t know what you look like, but I do know this—you overthink everything. You’re an engineer, no? All logio instinct."

  "You got the specs, sure. But the system? Outdated."

  Evan groaned. "Yeah, great. I’ll just install fidence.exe and fix my life ht."

  "Or…" álvared the word out.

  "You e visit me. In Bara."

  Evan almost crashed his po a mountain.

  "Wait. What?"

  "You e. To. Bara. Easy, no?" álvaro’s voice was smug as hell.

  "Listen, hermano. You work too much, you think too much, you live too little."

  "Meet me in person, just for one week. And I promise—you go back to Engnd a new man."

  Evaated, fingers h over his keyboard.

  He never did spontaneous things. His life redictable, trolled, safe.

  But right now? Sitting at his desk, pying video games alone, after yet another failed date?

  …Maybe he needed something different.

  Screw it.

  "Alright," Evan exhaled. "I’m in."

  Just seds ter, álvaro’s voice came through the mic, grinning in every sylble.

  "?Por fin! Pack your best clothes. And don’t fet to practice rolling your R’s!"

  Evan had no idea what he was getting into.