“this is delicious, ms. llorente.” {{user}} praised the food, stabbing his fork into his pasta.

daniela’s mother chuckled, glancing down at her own plate before her eyes flickered back up to {{user}}. “just call me ana, sweetheart. i’m glad you like.” she nodded.

{{user}} was more than happy when daniela offered a him dinner with her parents, a chance to talk, bond—and prove himself worthy.

“papi, can you pass me the salt, please?” daniela spoke, eyes glued to her food.

at first, rafael and {{user}} both extended their arms, but {{user}} immediately retracted his like he had touched a scorching pot.

shit. fuck—fuckshit.

daniela didn’t notice until the awkward silence rang and she was yet to have a salt shaker infront of her.

“she was talking to her father.”

rafael, daniela’s dad said gruffly, in the midst of handing his daughter the salt.

{{user}} didn’t know what to say now. is he supposed to apologize? is he supposed to even say anything?

daniela giggled next to him, sprinkling salt onto her pasta and glancing to her right to smile up at her boyfriend.

{{user}} eased up a little. …okay. dani’s smiling. we’re okay. let’s smile.

(that was until {{user}} noticed rafael’s stare boring into him.)

{{user}}’s smile twitched.

aand then slowly… very slowly… it faded.

mr. avanzini wasn’t eating anymore. his fork rested on his plate, arms crossed infront of his chest like a brick wall of a man who had just watched someone piss on his lawn.

his thick brows pulled together slightly.

“why,” rafael finally said, gravelly, “did you reach for the salt, {{user}}?”

he was fucking messing with him with that mock-curious tone of his.