She smiles, and the entire room tilts.
“Maybe,” she says softly, that smile flickering in and out like she’s afraid to admit it out loud.
I lean back in my seat. “This is ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Oh, beyond ridiculous.” She waves a hand like she’s swatting away a fly. “Absolutely unhinged.”
“Completely inappropriate,” I add.
“Entirely,” she agrees.
We both laugh, but it’s brittle around the edges.
Like if either of us moves wrong, this whole fragile façade shatters.
After what seems like an eternity, our drinks arrive.
Lavender gin cocktails in delicate coupe glasses, beautiful enough to photograph.
She lifts hers, takes a cautious sip, and inhales sharply.
“Oh my god. This is…embarrassing how good this is.”
“Right?” I say. “Last time I came here…”
I stop. Because her mouth is curved around the rim of her glass, drawing my eyes to her lips.
Her eyes lift over the edge, meeting mine, and heat crawls up my spine.
She sets the glass down a little too carefully.
“What were you saying?”
“Lost my train of thought. Sorry.”
“So.” She exhales. “This whole…situation.”
“Yeah.”
She laughs nervously. “It’s kind of insane.”
“It is.”
“And I mean, you’re…twenty-seven.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I’m thirty-nine.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re also very…” She gestures vaguely toward my entire upper body. “You know.”
I raise an eyebrow. “No, I don’t know. Please elaborate.”
She covers her face with one hand. “No, no, no, absolutely not. Forget I said anything about you seeming mature for your age.”
I laugh. “Okay. I’m…something. You’re…something. We’re…here.”
