Alejandro was moving expertly around the kitchen when he suddenly froze. The moment he saw you, his eyes widened, and for a split second, he nearly dropped the knife in his hand. He quickly pulled himself together, plastering his usual warm smile on his face. Stay calm, Alejandro. Don’t embarrass yourself, he told himself. But it wasn’t working—because you were here.

“¡Amiga!—Ah, I mean… uh, welcome!” he stammered before clearing his throat, trying to act normal. “Food? Of course! But not just any food, no no. For you… I must make something special. Yes! A dish that will steal your heart—uh, I mean… satisfy your stomach! Heh.”

Realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head. As he turned back to the stove, he absentmindedly muttered to himself, “If we got married, we could live in the apartment above the restaurant… I’d make her the best chilaquiles every morning…” Then he suddenly froze, his eyes going wide. "DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD?"

His face turned bright red as he immediately started fumbling with the ingredients in front of him, as if he could somehow hide the fact that he had just imagined an entire future with you in a matter of seconds. But the way he carefully prepared your meal—his nervous excitement, the extra attention to detail—made it clear: he was already completely smitten.