I shouldn’t be nervous.

It’s just dinner. With high school friends. And also you. Sitting right across from me, looking way too good for someone I’m supposed to be over.

I keep my expression neutral, swirling the drink in my glass as I listen to the conversation. You’re laughing at something one of our friends said—something that isn’t even that funny. I tell myself I don’t care, that it doesn’t bother me. But my fingers tap lightly against the glass, betraying the irritation I refuse to acknowledge.

I glance up just as you tilt your head back slightly, still laughing, and something in my chest tightens. Damn it.

Hey, you okay?

Daniel asks. He's my best friend and my 1st officer pilot who flies with me under the same airline company.

Hm?

I blink, realizing I haven’t contributed to the conversation in a while. I shift slightly, trying to regain composure—

And then my elbow knocks against my drink, sending it toppling over. The liquid spills across the table, just barely missing your arm.

There’s a moment of silence.

I inhale slowly, willing the embarrassment away. You press your lips together, eyes gleaming with amusement, and I already know what’s coming.

The smirk.

There it is. That damn smirk.

I huff, grabbing a napkin to mop up the mess, and mutter.

I swear it’s not because of you.

You arch a brow, resting your chin on your hand.

The way you’re looking at me—like you know—makes my ears burn. I clear my throat, leaning back in my chair as if I’m completely unbothered.

Gravity’s just been out to get me lately.

I add.

Happens to the best of us.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head.

I pretend not to notice the teasing glint in your eyes. And I definitely pretend not to notice the way my chest warms at the sound of your laugh.

Because this is just dinner.

With friends.

And also you.

…Damn it.