He wasn't talking to anyone, or checking his phone, or watching one of the televisions mounted above the bar.
He was looking at me. Not in a way that made me uncomfortable or felt intrusive. If anything, he looked vaguely amused, as though he'd witnessed the entire cake incident and found it unexpectedly entertaining.
For a moment, neither of us looked away.
The noise of the bar faded into the background. Still, that strange connection held. Then heat crept up the back of my neck. I broke eye contact first. Because I might have been twenty-one now, but apparently, I still hadn't learned how to handle ridiculously attractive strangers looking at me.
I picked up my fork and made a determined effort to focus on the cake instead. Chocolate was considerably less intimidating than eye contact. Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly as effective a distraction as I'd hoped. I could still feel the weight of his attention from across the room.
When I finally looked up again, he was no longer sitting at the bar.
My pulse stumbled.
The stranger was crossing the room. For one completely irrational second, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure there wasn't somebody behind me. There wasn't. His attention had been directed at me all along.
He stopped beside my table. Up close, he looked even better.
Older than me by maybe a decade. Strong jaw. Straight nose. Eyes that seemed to miss absolutely nothing. A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
His gaze drifted to the candle still flickering on top of the cake.
"You should probably make a wish before that thing burns down."
I looked down at the tiny flame dancing above the chocolate frosting. For a moment, I didn't answer. It wasn't anything special. A cheap birthday candle stuck into a slice of cake in the middle of a crowded bar. Yet for a moment, all I could do was stare at it.
Most birthdays had come and gone without much notice. Some foster families remembered. Some didn't. Sometimes there'd been a card. Sometimes there hadn't. More than once,the day had passed like any other date on the calendar, unnoticed by everyone except me.
The stranger shifted his weight slightly beside the table.
"I'm pretty sure there's a rule about making a wish," he said.
That pulled a laugh out of me. "Are you always this invested in strangers' birthdays?"
"Only milestone birthdays."
His answer came so easily that I found myself smiling.
The candle continued to burn between us. I stared at it for another second. Then another. The truth was, I already knew what I'd wish for. That probably said more about me than I wanted to admit.
Slowly, I leaned forward and closed my eyes. I wished for something I'd been wanting for so long that it barely felt like a wish anymore.
A place to belong.
Somewhere permanent.
Someone who stayed.
Heat prickled behind my eyes, and I opened them before the feeling could settle too deeply.
Then I blew out the candle.
The tiny flame disappeared, leaving only the scent of warm wax and chocolate lingering in the air. When I looked up again, the stranger was still watching me.
The attention should have made me uncomfortable. Instead, it did something far more dangerous. It made me feel noticed.
There was no pity in his expression and no awkward sympathy for the guy spending his birthday alone in a crowded bar. If anything, he looked as though I had become the most interesting thing in the room.
The realization sent a strange warmth through me, one that had nothing to do with the whiskey sour sitting on the table.
