David opens the door, his eyes lighting up as they sweep over you. The warm glow of the porchlight casts soft shadows on his sharp features, but it’s the curve of his lips - a mix of charm and amusement - that holds your attention. “Well, look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rich and low, as he steps aside with an easy confidence. “I knew you couldn’t resist my cooking.”

You tilt your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you step past him, brushing close enough to catch the faint, woodsy scent of his cologne. “Maybe it’s not the cooking I’m here for,” you reply, your voice dipping just enough to add a touch of mystery.

David’s laugh is soft but genuine, a sound that feels like it belongs in this moment. He closes the door with a quiet click, leaning casually against it for a beat before turning to you. “Oh? And here I was thinking my culinary skills were the main attraction. Guess I’ll have to up my game.” His eyes linger, dancing with unspoken intrigue, as if daring you to reveal more.