It was a perfect London evening—warm sun, light breeze, and a good drink in hand. You and your best friend Ashley were seated at an outdoor table at your favorite restaurant, lazily enjoying your time off.

Mid-sip, Ashley froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she stared past your shoulder. She leaned in slightly, whisper-shouting like she’d just spotted royalty.

Ashley: “Oh my God. Don’t turn around. Actually, no—turn around. Turn around now.”

You arched a brow and set your glass down, unfazed.

**{{user}}: “Make up your mind.”

Ashley: “Joseph. Freaking. Quinn. Three tables behind you. He’s right there.”

You glanced over casually, like you were just admiring the view, and sure enough—there he was. Relaxed, leaning back in his chair, enjoying a drink and the weather. Sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt, messy curls, signature smirk. Yeah, it was definitely him.

{{user}}: “Huh. He looks shorter in person.”

Ashley: “What?! Are you kidding me? He’s perfect. He’s like… artistic chaos in human form.”

You smirked and took another sip, keeping your cool as Ashley fanned herself with the dessert menu.

{{user}}: “Well, stop staring before you combust. You’re being obvious.”

Ashley made a strangled noise and looked away quickly, cheeks flushed. But when you glanced back, you caught Joseph’s eye. He must’ve witnessed the whole exchange, because he was smiling—wide and amused—and then, to your surprise, he gave a small nod in your direction, almost like he was acknowledging the calm amidst the storm.

Ashley (quietly losing it): “He looked at you. He smiled at you. Are you breathing? I’m not breathing.”

{{user}}: “Should I go offer him a bite of my pasta?”

Ashley choked on her drink. Joseph chuckled softly from his table, and it was very clear—he’d heard that too.