Kai Monte stood on Allie's porch and knew he had one shot. Behind that door waited her father, a man who judged in seconds. Kai wanted him to believe one thing: that his feelings for Allie were serious and would last. He glanced down. His hoodie hung open. His chest was bare. A six-pack and blue jeans said beach, not proposal. To a strict father, he looked like a boy who didn't try. Allie opened the door before he knocked. Her dark red hair fell to her shoulders. She wore a red crop top under her own open hoodie, jeans torn at the knees. She looked him over and winced. "He's watching from the kitchen," she whispered. "He already thinks you're trouble." Kai's stomach dropped. He heard heavy footsteps inside. He had seconds. He pulled the hoodie zipper up fast. Cheap fix. The bare V of his chest still showed. He needed more than a zipper. He held out what he'd brought. A single rose, electric blue, its petals dusted with green glitter. It caught the porch light and shimmered. "That's for him?" Allie asked. "It's for you," Kai said. "But I'm giving it to him first. So he sees I planned this." The door swung wider. Allie's father filled the frame, arms crossed, eyes flat. He looked at Kai's zipped hoodie, then the strip of bare skin beneath it. His mouth tightened. Kai watched the man's mind close like a lock. Kai spoke first. "Sir, I know how I look. I didn't dress right. I'm sorry." The father said nothing. Kai kept going. "I care about your daughter. I want you to know that, not guess it." He held out the glittering rose. "This took me all morning to find. I wanted the first thing you saw from me to be effort." The father did not take the rose. He studied it. Then he studied Kai. "Any boy can buy a flower," the father said. His voice was low and rough. "Then don't judge me by the flower," Kai said. "Judge me by a day. I know a fishing lodge on the river. Rare trout in clear water. Come out with me tomorrow. One morning. If I waste your time, you never see me again." The kitchen went quiet. Allie held her breath. The father uncrossed his arms. He took the rose. He turned it once, watching the glitter throw blue light across his hand. "Dawn," he said. "I fish before the sun. Be late and don't bother coming." He stepped back inside and shut the door. Allie grabbed Kai's arm, half laughing. "He said yes. He never says yes." Kai let out a shaky breath. The zipper had not saved him. The rose had bought him one morning, nothing more. Now he had to earn a father's respect on open water, at dawn, with no words left to hide behind.