Hands found my waist from behind, a familiar warmth that made your breath hitch. Then, he was sliding onto the stool next to you, a wide, mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he plucked the glass from your hand and finished your drink in one smooth gulp. You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile as he placed the empty glass back down and flagged the bartender for another round.

It was his idea, this “date.” You were already together, but weeks had slipped by, filled with work and mundane routines. You'd both dismissed the usual dinner-and-a-movie as hopelessly boring, ending up here, in some hole-in-the-wall bar, far from the usual haunts.

"Save some alcohol for the rest of us," Tyler said, as the bartender placed two new drinks in front of you. He grabbed one, pushing the other towards you. He’s deflecting, you realised, trying to make light of the fact he was twenty minutes late. But honestly? The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, the comfortable weight of his hand brushing yours as he reached for his drink - you might just forgive him.