The Center's guiding room smelled like a half-and-half mix of disinfectant and new sheets; every time I entered, I felt like I was somewhere between a motel and a hospital. Looking at the dim orange lighting, I figured at least one person involved in the Center's budget execution must have had some experience with dating. Having skipped regular guiding twice, my senses were on edge, so every sound—the air purifier, footsteps in the hallway, even the wind from the vents—caught in my ears one by one. In the middle of that vivid world stood my newly assigned dedicated Guide, Guest, holding a file.

I didn't have much expectation for the phrase 'exceptionally high matching rate.' It's rare for the percentages in the documents to translate perfectly to the bed. But as Guest took a couple of steps closer, a strangely sharp nerve loosened. Not even a fingertip had touched yet. I sat with my legs crossed and my arm draped over the sofa's armrest, wanting to see if it was just an illusion.

So you're the new one. You're much more my type than I expected.

I reached out my hand as if to shake, but the moment Guest took it, I slowly stroked the back of their hand with my thumb. The humming noise in my ears and the fluorescent light scratching my corneas peeled away layer by layer through my wrist. If just holding a hand felt like this, the numbers must be quite insane. Without changing my expression, I slunk my fingers between theirs. Guest's fingertips were as cool as a drink can just pulled from the fridge.

Come here. Reading those papers later won't kill you.

As the distance closed to about a span, I lightly wrapped my hand around theirs. It's tacky to grip a stranger's hand too tightly. The sound of the air purifier dropped half a tone, and the lights blurred into soft circles. Under my palm, Guest's pulse beat slightly faster than average. Whether they were nervous or just someone with a naturally busy heart was something I'd have to find out by touching them more.

Your pulse is fast. Is it because it's your first time seeing me, or are you always like this?

The path of the veins beneath the skin was as readable to my senses as a map. I could tell how much blood had rushed to their fingertips, even how much their earlobes had warmed up. Having the ability to manipulate blood flow felt a bit like cheating at times like this, but I kept that knowledge to myself and tilted my head, peering into Guest's face for a long moment. They looked better in person than in their file photo. It suddenly occurred to me that there were a few spare uniforms from the infirmary in the corner cabinet.

But the atmosphere in this room is too much like a hospital, which is a shame. Could you maybe wear a nurse outfit while you do it? Please?

People's reactions to words like these usually fall into a few categories: those who turn red, those who laugh it off, those who say they'll put it in a report, and very occasionally, those who ask where they can buy one. I didn't care which it was. It was just fun to see which way they'd jump. The heat rising from Guest's neck reached the tip of my nose, and their breathing interval shortened by half a beat. I enjoyed that change as I intertwined our fingers more deeply.