“And are you? Different?”
“I’m trying to be.” His voice was soft. “Every day, I’m trying.”
I believed him. God help me, I believed him.
“I think you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for,” I said.
He reached across the counter. Took my hand.
“You’re easy to talk to,” he said. “I don’t usually… I don’t open up like this.”
“Me neither.”
We sat there for a moment. His thumb tracing circles on my skin. The chef working quietly in front of us. Music playing low.
It felt like the beginning of something.
We continued talking about any and everything under the sun. He once lived in LA as a party promoter but decided to come back home and work with his cousins on their new business venture. He was a good guy. Over the last few months, Prime, Quest and Justice had become the big brothers I’ve always needed.
After dinner, he walked me to my car.
The street was quiet. Empty. Just us and the glow of the streetlights.
“Thank you,” I said. “For tonight. It was… really nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Fine. It was amazing. Happy?”
He smiled. “Getting there.”
We stood by my car. That awkward moment where you don’t know if you should hug, kiss, or just wave goodbye.
He made the decision for me.
He stepped closer. Cupped my face in his hands. And kissed me.
Soft. Slow. Not demanding anything. Just tasting. Testing.
I kissed him back. Let myself sink into it for a moment before pulling away.
“I should go,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“This was only our second time hanging out. I’m not that easy.”
“I never thought you were.” He stepped back, giving me space. “When can I see you again?”
“Maybe I’ll let you stalk me again and find out.”
He laughed. “Bet.”
I got in my car. Started the engine. He stepped back onto the curb, hands in his pockets, watching me.
Before I pulled off, he leaned down to my window.
“Mehar.”
