By the time he got home, the quiet of his apartment felt foreign.
He dropped his bag by the door and stood there for a moment, phone in hand.
Dinner tomorrow.
He had said it without thinking. Without hedging. Without building an exit ramp first.
That alone felt significant.
Bennett showered, changed, and ate something he barely tasted. He tried to focus on familiar routines, but his mind kept circling back to Jasper. The way he had looked at the airport. Steady. Expectant, but not demanding.
That expectation was the part Bennett could not shake.
His phone buzzed while he was standing at the counter, pretending to read an article he had already skimmed three times.
Jasper:
Still good for tomorrow. No pressure. Just checking in.
Bennett stared at the screen longer than necessary. He noticed the wording. No pressure. Just checking in.
He typed, deleted, then typed again.
Bennett:
Yes. Tomorrow works. I will make a reservation.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Jasper:
Of course you will.
Bennett huffed quietly, despite himself.
Bennett:
Seven.
Jasper:
Looking forward to it.
Bennett set the phone down and leaned back against the counter.
He was not panicking. That in itself felt suspicious.
The restaurant wasquiet but not empty. Low lighting. Soft conversation. The kind of place where people went to talk instead of impress.
Bennett arrived ten minutes early. He always did.
Jasper arrived exactly on time.
He looked different out of the hotel context. Still polished, but less insulated. Dark coat. Relaxed posture. A smile that was for Bennett alone.
“Hi,” Jasper said.
“Hi,” Bennett replied, then paused. “You look… good.”
