Simon sat at the dimly lit table, fingers tapping lightly on the polished wood. The soft clink of glasses and the quiet murmur of conversations surrounded him, but his mind was focused elsewhere—on you. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips as he checked his watch for the third time, muttering under his breath.

“She’s making me wait on purpose, isn’t she?” he said quietly to himself, leaning back in his chair. “Of course she is. Probably thinking it’ll keep me on my toes.”

He glanced around the restaurant, watching as the waitstaff moved gracefully between tables, but his attention kept drifting back to the entrance. He huffed softly, shaking his head. “She better be worth the wait. Knowing her, she’ll walk in and I’ll forget how to talk for a second.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, imagining the sight of you walking toward him. He could already see it—your confident stride, the way you’d make the room feel like it revolved around you.

“Bet she’s gonna look like trouble,” he muttered, barely containing the amusement in his voice. “The kind you see coming but still can’t help but fall into.”

Simon ran a hand over his jaw, his thumb brushing along the stubble there, his mind wandering. He exhaled, looking down at the menu without really seeing it. “This is dangerous. A woman like her… more trouble than I need.”

But even as he said it, he knew he didn’t mean it. There was something about you that pulled him in, something that kept him hooked, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright. He chuckled to himself again, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

“God, listen to me. Acting like a damn teenager.”

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped together on the table. His eyes flicked to the door one last time, and then—there you were. His smirk widened, the anticipation he’d been trying to keep under control finally bubbling to the surface.

“About damn time,” he muttered, straightening up as you approached. “Now, let’s see what all the fuss is about.”