Someday 🐞

I know I sound like your mom but you kids need to stop fucking vaping

Emma D'Arcy for Arena HOMME+ (Summer/Autumn 2024) Photographed by Fausto Elizalde

He sat across from her, locking eyes with the woman as he settled in, humming thoughtfully, "The truth?" She seemed like someone who would prefer the truth. And he wasn't usually one to beat around the bush unless he was trying to get away with something risky at work, "My mom asked me to come. But, rest assured, I also have a healthy amount of curiosity. It's in my nature." He flashed a soft grin, returning the question, "What about you? On a quest to go on the world's best date?" His following thought was the he probably wasn't going to be the world's best date, but he kept that musing to himself. It's not that he was antisocial or rude or unattractive. Sandro just sort of found himself a bit boring. He worked and went home mostly. He didn't have many hobbies, he didn't have much of a life outside of the office. He thought it usually made very droll date conversation.

Sandro picked up the drink menu, though he kept his attention on Devin, not wanting to seem rude, remembering the manners his mom had instilled in him over and over. He was, admittedly, curious about her. He didn't think his mom had the best taste generally, but there seemed to be no issue (yet) and Devin didn't seem like a complete crazy person. Though, there was still time for such a reveal.

"What are you drinking?" Sandro asked, figuring it would probably be easier just to ask their waiter for a bottle for the table. Plus, he wasn't particularly picky when it came to wine — or food for the at matter, he was an easy date.

continued from here for tracking purposes. | @gvardrail

Her gaze lifted from the menu at the sound of his voice, hazel-green eyes settling on him with the quiet intensity of someone sizing up a mystery. So, this was Sandro. The man her mother had gone on about as though he were the solution to all of life’s problems. Devin’s lips curved, just slightly—a smile too faint to betray what she was truly thinking.

She let a beat pass, her fingers stilling on the stem of her wine glass before she reached out to take his offered hand. Her grip was firm but not overly so, the handshake coolly polite. ❝Devin,❞ she confirmed, her voice low and smooth, as if she were entirely unfazed by the circumstances. ❝Nice to meet you too, Sandro.❞

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, cataloging details with the precision of someone who had been trained to assess and analyze from a young age: the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint tension in his shoulders that betrayed the practiced ease he was trying to project. He looked like someone who lived in control—she wondered how much he hated being here, doing this.

She withdrew her hand, leaning back in her chair as she gestured to the empty seat across from her. ❝Well, you’re here. That’s more than I expected, so... points for punctuality.❞ Her words were light, tinged with dry humor, though the spark in her eyes hinted at something sharper beneath the surface.

As he settled in, Devin reached for her wine glass, taking another sip. The movement was measured, calculated even, giving her just enough time to think. ❝So, Sandro,❞ she began, setting the glass down with the softest of clinks, ❝what brings you to this thrilling adventure? Duty, curiosity, or sheer boredom?❞

Her lips quirked into a smile that was equal parts challenge and charm. Whatever this was, she had no intention of letting it fall into the predictable rhythm her mother likely envisioned. If she had to sit through this evening, she’d make it on her terms.

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