“What made you change your mind?”
I spread a generous layer of hummus on a roll and took a bite. The richness of the flavours was unparalleled. I closed my eyes, savouring the taste.
“Can’t I indulge in some decent food every once in a while?”
As if in response to my thoughts, my plate transformed with astonishing speed. Italian pasta, Spanish charcuterie, French tartar. The waiters, who had been three, now numbered more than ten. They moved around us with the precision of circus gymnasts, juggling bottles, cutlery, and food, performing a complex dance to avoid collisions.
Enzo’s gaze softened.
“I’m just glad you accepted,” he said. “I’d have enjoyed this date anywhere, Vera.”
My heart jumped. We talked about everything from classes,colleagues, and the juiciest Cutnam gossip. Conversation flowed so easily with Enzo, and I caught myself dropping all guards. This felt right. I had every right to enjoy it.
Soon after, dessert arrived, accompanied by a dazzling light show that danced across the table. Enzo’s eyes widened as he abandoned a half-eaten pastry, his surprise turning into a shadow when his gaze searched for mine.
“Had you ever been here before?” he asked, intrigued.
The restaurant erupted. It’s the best way to describe it. Hidden LEDs shot beams of silver light across the room. The lights pierced through the glass, creating iridescent glints and acting as a diffuser, all in sync with piano music. A shiver ran down my spine.
“No, you?”
“This is my first time,” Enzo replied, a playful grin spreading across his face. “But I’m already considering a second visit, especially if you’re my date.”
I squeaked, unsure what to say.
Yes, I would like another date.
No, I can’t focus on that right now, and also no, I won’t be back here ever again.
But instead of replying to any of that, I focused on my surroundings.
The LEDs kept changing colours. From somewhere, a halo shot out, projecting a blue sky onto the ceiling, then a starry night. When the show ended, the lights returned to their usual colour. A man in a red apron approached our table.
“I hope you enjoyed the meal,” he said, placing a silver tray on the table. He uncovered it to reveal two steaming tall glasses. “This is a steamed strawberry mousse. The star dessert of The Big Mediterranean.”
My mouth fell open as the chef placed the dessert in front of me. A swirl of pink shimmered under the low lights, topped with delicate whipped cream, plump strawberries, and tiny golden flakes that sparkled like they’d been dusted by hand. I was too mesmerised by the sugary extravaganza to respond. Enzo, ever the charmer, rescued me from my stupefied silence by thanking the chef on my behalf.
As soon as the chef departed, Enzo flashed me a grin. “You try it first; I’m not brave enough.”
To my surprise, the flowers on the plate were edible. Watching my reaction, Enzo, still nibbling on pastries and neglecting his mousse, slid his dessert toward me.
“I see you’re enjoying it, so here you go,” he said.
I plucked a flower from his dessert and popped it in my mouth.
“When else am I going to have the chance to eat flowers?” I mused, savouring its weird, fruity aftertaste.
Enzo wrinkled his nose. “So I was right, the change of place wasn’t just about the food, was it?”
I set my spoon down, the clink against the plate cutting through the playful atmosphere. “What do you mean?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.
His gaze was steady, probing. “Let’s be honest, Vera. Something must have happened that made you want to bring me here.” His hand found mine. “And you seem a bit on edge. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m worried. You don’t seem yourself.”
His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like a spotlight.
Could I trust him with the truth? He knew me well—at least well enough to see right through me, and my heartbeatraced at the thought.
Enzo’s head tilted, as if he could sense my hesitation. I wondered what he’d think if I let him in on the real story—what he might say, or how it might change things.
