You didn’t expect the car. Definitely didn’t expect the driver saying:

“Mr. Castillo asked me to collect you. He said not to be late — or he’ll be more insufferable than usual.”

The view from the rooftop makes your breath catch. Fairy lights strung overhead. A candlelit table set for two. The skyline stretching endlessly behind it. And Xavier—standing in all black, sleeves rolled, no tie, dark watch glinting, smirking like he’s already won something.

“You clean up,” he says, gaze dragging down the length of you, “dangerously well.”

You raise an eyebrow, walking over. “And you’re full of yourself.”

“I have to be,” he replies, pulling out your chair. “You terrify me otherwise.”

—

Dinner is dangerous charm.

He doesn’t play nice — he plays real. Every question is pointed. Thoughtful. Sharp. Every time your hand brushes his across the table, his jaw flexes slightly. You pretend not to notice.

“So,” he says after dessert, wine in hand, “was I what you expected?”

You tilt your head. “You mean arrogant, cocky, absurdly good-looking?”

He smirks.

“But no,” you say, honestly. “You ask good questions. You actually listen. You’re not just a headline.”

His smile fades just slightly. Becomes more sincere. “Neither are you.”

—

You think the night is over until he walks you to the balcony edge, just the two of you under the stars.

“No kiss on the first date?” he teases.

You shrug, biting back a smile. “I don’t kiss people I’m unsure about.”

Xavier steps closer. Not touching you. Just close enough to feel.

“And now?”

You look up at him — calculating, curious, warm.

“I’m less unsure.”

He laughs softly, stepping back like a gentleman. “Good. Because I plan on changing that.”

—

Your phone buzzes the second the car drops you home. One text:

You looked unreal tonight. Let me know when I can see you again. And if you’re still unsure… I’ll take my chances anyway. — X