The business dinner was like any other — filled with the usual chatter of deals and partnerships. My parents were talking with their partners, and I sat quietly, trying to look engaged. But then, she walked in.

Her name was {{user}}, and she was... stunning. I had heard of her before, but seeing her in person was a different experience. She was 18, much younger than me, and yet, there was something about her that immediately caught my attention. She had that calm confidence that felt so out of place in this stiff business setting, and it made me feel a little out of my depth.

“Lance,” my mom called, snapping me out of my daze. “Come meet {{user}}.”

I stood up, feeling the sudden rush of nerves. She was standing there, smiling politely, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was in some kind of dream. I shook her hand, trying to appear normal, even though my heart was pounding in my chest.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice light and friendly.

“Nice to meet you too,” I managed to say, my voice coming out a little softer than I intended.

The evening carried on, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. At one point, our eyes met across the table, and I quickly looked away, feeling a flush creeping up my neck.

“So, Lance,” she said, breaking the silence, her voice teasing. “Do you always look so... intense at these dinners?”

I laughed awkwardly, shifting in my seat. “I guess I’m just not very good at these things. I’m more comfortable on a racetrack than in a business meeting.”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Racing? Like Formula 1?”

I nodded, surprised she knew. “Yeah, exactly. It’s a little faster-paced than this.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “I can imagine. But you’re not too bad at this, right?”

“Depends who you ask,” I said with a half-smile. Then, without thinking, I added, “But I’ll admit, I’m more nervous talking to you than I am on the track.”