The hotel bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversation a background to the clinking of glasses. {{user}} sat on a high stool, fidgeting with her drink, cheeks flushed—not entirely from the rosé. Across from her, Noah Shaw leaned back, arms casually draped over the bar, his usual mischievous grin in place, but tonight it was tempered with something softer, something unreadable.

“Careful there,” he teased, watching as she reached for another sip. “You’re turning as red as that wine.”

{{user}} laughed nervously, turning her face away. “I’m… fine. Totally fine.” Her voice didn’t quite convince either of them. The flush creeping down her neck betrayed her attempt at composure.

Noah leaned forward, resting an elbow on the counter, his dark eyes sharp yet kind. “You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her hands tightened around the glass. “Pretend? I… I’m not pretending.” But the warmth in her cheeks said otherwise. She swallowed hard, the tension in the room mounting, charged with the kind of energy neither of them dared to name aloud yet.

“You keep saying that,” Noah murmured, voice low, teasing—but there was a hesitation there. A rare uncertainty that matched the awkward excitement fluttering in her stomach. “And yet, here you are… flushed, staring at me like you’re trying not to.”

{{user}}’s eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze briefly before darting away, her lips parting slightly. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

He smirked, leaning closer, just close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne that somehow made her heart race. “You’re lying,” he said softly. “Or at least, lying to yourself.”

She wanted to protest, but the words stuck somewhere between her throat and the heat rising in her chest. Every instinct screamed at her to look away, but she couldn’t entirely ignore him, couldn’t hide from the pull that had been building ever since she’d first met him at work.

Noah chuckled, a soft, almost nervous sound she hadn’t heard from him before. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture that was completely uncharacteristic of the confident, teasing man she’d come to know. “I… I don’t know why I’m saying this,” he admitted, voice dropping lower. “But I like seeing you like this. Vulnerable. Human.”