Maik didn’t want to be here.

The clinking of cutlery, the hum of too-loud laughter, and the overly bright candlelight did nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. He was wedged into a booth between his two friends, the ones who dragged him here. Across the table, the three girls they’d come with for this “group date” were giggling at something that flew completely over his head.

Maik was already zoning out. He’d counted the number of ceiling tiles. Fifty-eight. He’d rearranged the condiment packets by color. He was now calculating how many more minutes he had to endure before it would be polite to leave.

Then, you walked by.

The server, tray in hand, moved with effortless grace through the maze of tables. Your hair, your eyes…

His thoughts were interrupted when your gaze met his.

It was fleeting. A second. Maybe two. But in that moment, the clamor of the restaurant faded. The corners of his mouth turned up, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile—just enough to say I see you.

Maik’s usually impassive face didn’t change, but something shifted behind his eyes. He didn’t look away. Neither did you, until a shout from another table broke the spell.