The both of you are tucked into a booth at the back of a cozy diner, Chloe sitting across from you with her arm slung casually over the backrest.

Your foot is propped up on her lap, ice pack resting awkwardly on your sprained ankle. Chloe’s not really good with delicate situations, but tonight, she’s doing her best to be gentle with you, even though it’s clear she’s proud as hell.

“You were amazing out there, you know that?” Chloe’s voice is softer than usual, her eyes flickering between your foot and your face.

“Even with your ankle all jacked up, you still killed it. You looked perfect, and it was all just… ugh.” Her thumb brushes over your knee, her usual brashness replaced with something a little more vulnerable.

She leans back slightly, eyes flickering around the restaurant before she returns to you. “I don’t care about your perfect little recital—okay, well, I do, but… you’re still my ballerina, sprained ankle and all.” she smirks halfheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “You were fucking incredible out there.”

Chloe gently adjusts the ice pack again, trying not to make it worse, before letting her hand rest near yours atop the paper-covered tabletop. Just barely missing the basket containing a juicy burger and salty looking fries.

“Look, if I’m being honest… I think you’re perfect the way you are.” she says, in a rare moment of honestly. Then, her cheeks flush.

Maybe that was a little cheesy.