I pause for a second. It’s not that he looks wildly different. It’s just that I’ve never really seen him like this before. All put together. He didn't even dress up like this for high school graduation. And he looksgood. I mean, Ryan has always looked good. But there’s something about him looking like he actually tried, and put in effort that makes him somehow look even hotter.
Still, the Ryan I know is there too. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, his brown wavy hair still slightly messy like he ran a hand through it on the way here.
“I just—” I clear my throat lightly and turn toward the hallway. “I just have a couple things to grab.”
He nods and continues to stroll around the kitchen.
And after a couple minutes, I slip my heels on and straighten up. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”
He looks at me for a second. “Sure?”
“Yes.”
Another beat.
“…Yes,” I repeat.
He smiles, satisfied. “Alright. Let’s go.”
We arrive after a ten-minute drive, and the second Ryan parks the car, I already know where we are.
I glance over at him. “Ah, so we’re going to Ember & Pearl then?”
He looks back at me, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “You ruined the surprise.”
“There is literally a sign right there,” I say, pointing to the sign that sits at the end of the parking lot and he follows my finger. “Oh, well, that sign ruined the surprise then.”
Ember & Pearl is basically Baylin’s headquarters of gossip. The restaurant is all red brick and creeping ivy, with soft golden lights glowing through the windows and above the door, the neon sign hums quietly.
Ryan kills the engine, and before I can even unbuckle, he’s already out of the car, walking around to my side. He opens the door and holds out his hand like he’s been doing this his whole life.
I blink up at him, then take it as I step out, “Thank you, Romeo.”
“You’re very welcome, Juliet.”
He shuts the door behind me but doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, his fingers shift and lace through mine as we start walking toward the entrance. His hand is warm, and surprisingly gentle. I glance down at our hands and then up at him. We both catch it at the same time and let out a quiet laugh.
“This is still weird,” I murmur.
“Extremely,” he agrees.
My heels click against the pavement as we walk, the sound sharp and fancy and completely at odds with how unserious this whole thing still feels.
He opens the entrance door for me, and the sound of laughter, clicking glasses and talking washes over me. He lets go of my hand, his palm settling briefly at my lower back as we step inside. Which makes me straighten instinctively.
The hostess stands on our right and smiles brightly. “Good evening, what can I do for you?”
Ryan gives her a little smile. “We made a reservation on the nameDrayton.” He pauses a second before saying his name, pronouncing it with extra articulation.
Her gaze leaves the reservation list, and looks back up at us. Her eyes widen just a fraction before she smiles. “Ah, yes. Right this way.”
We follow her through the restaurant, weaving past softly lit tables and low conversations. A few people glance up as we pass. The crowd is a mix of polished and familiar people who probablycome every Friday and order the same wine without looking at the menu.
The hostess leads us a little farther in and as we walk I shrug off my purse and jacket, tossing it over my forearm, before the waitress stops at a table.
Our table looks… different. There are extra candles—like, a lotof candles. The napkins are folded into actual hearts. Rose petals are scattered across the table and it looks straight out of a movie. Or a proposal. Maybe this is a special table or something?
I place my purse on the ground and my jacket on the back of the chair. Then I turn slowly toward Ryan, and notice he’s standing there with a knowing smile and straight posture. Almost as if he’s proud of himself. Wait—
