The restaurant buzzed with soft chatter and the clink of silverware, but all Shoko seemed to focus on was you. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the white tablecloth, a half-empty glass of wine cradled in her hand. Her lips curled into a smirk, the kind that always made your pulse skip.

“Are you even listening?” she teased, tapping the rim of her glass with a manicured nail.

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah—uh, something about Nanami’s new tie?”

She laughed, a warm, quiet sound that felt more intimate than it should in a crowded room. “Nice save.” Her eyes, sharp and knowing, never left yours. “But I think I lost you somewhere around the appetizers.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she leaned back, crossing her legs under the table. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” She swirled her wine, the liquid catching the light. “I like when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Her smirk widened. “Like you can’t decide if you want to kiss me or if you’re still trying to figure me out.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Maybe a bit of both.”

Shoko hummed, setting her glass down and resting her chin on her hand. “Well, let me make it easier for you.” She shifted forward, close enough that her breath brushed your cheek. “I’m right here. All you have to do is ask.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, leaving only her—cigarette-smoke eyes and the quiet dare in her smile. And for once, you thought, maybe asking wasn’t as hard.