You sat across from your best friend in a charming Italian restaurant, the scent of garlic and fresh basil filling the air. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the polished wood tables, the gentle clinking of glasses blending with the low hum of conversation. It was the perfect setting for a relaxed night out—until the waiter arrived, and suddenly, the menu in your hands became completely irrelevant.

He was tall, effortlessly handsome, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms. There was something about the way he carried himself—calm, confident, utterly unbothered—that made your stomach flip. You immediately dropped your gaze, pretending to study the list of pasta dishes like they held the meaning of life.

Your best friend, on the other hand, had no such restraint.

“Wow,” she mused, her grin practically audible. “If I order dessert, does that include you?”

Your breath caught as you shot her a wide-eyed look, nudging her under the table in mortified silence. But the waiter didn’t falter. He chuckled, a deep, easy sound, and handed her a menu with a smooth reply.

“Afraid not.”

You kept your head down, mumbling your order, avoiding his gaze entirely. Even as he walked away, your friend kept giggling, shooting you pointed looks, her amusement relentless.

Later, as you stepped up to the counter to pay, you sensed someone beside you before you even looked up.

“Is she always like that?” a familiar voice asked, laced with quiet amusement.

You turned your head, only to find him watching you, a slow smirk curving at the corner of his lips.