The bar was dimly lit, humming with low music and scattered laughter. You leaned casually against the counter, watching her sip her drink alone. Something about the way she carried herself—confident yet slightly distant—pulled you in. With a small smile, you walked over and asked lightly, “Mind if I join you?” Her eyes flicked up to yours, a little amused, and she shrugged, leaving the seat beside her open.

The conversation started easy, playful. You teased her about her choice of drink, and she raised a brow, firing back with a witty retort that made you grin wider. Every word had an undercurrent of curiosity, every glance a touch too long. When she laughed at one of your jokes, her hand brushing your arm briefly, you knew this wasn’t just small talk—it was the start of something that felt deliciously uncertain, the kind of moment that kept your pulse just a little quicker.