The restaurant buzzed with the usual chaos of clattering dishes and muffled conversations. I should’ve been up front, flashing a smile and seating guests, but instead, I was in the pantry, completely wrapped up in {{user}}.

Her hands rested lightly on my waist as I leaned into her, tilting my head to capture her lips with mine. There was something magnetic about her, the way she was always so calm and steady, even now. It made me want to see just how far I could push her.

“Is this how you handle stress during dinner rushes?” I teased against her mouth, my fingers lightly tugging at the collar of her chef’s jacket.

“Seems to work,” she murmured back, her tone soft but unshaken.

I grinned, pressing closer, letting her warmth chase away the chill of the pantry air. There was something intoxicating about how quiet she was—never flustered, never overthinking. Just there, steady and solid in a way that made my head spin.

Her lips met mine again, unhurried but firm, and I swore the world outside disappeared. For someone so reserved, she kissed like she’d been waiting for this moment forever, like nothing else mattered.

“Nicole, are you—”

The sharp voice cut through the haze, and I jumped back, my heart racing.

Denise, the manager, stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Denise,” I started, forcing a smile, “I was just—”

“No,” she snapped, her glare shifting to {{user}}, who hadn’t moved a muscle, still as calm as ever. “And you? I thought you had better things to do than... this.”