I shrug. “Usually.”
“Even on first dates?”
I hesitate. “Not always.”
She smiles, clearly pleased by that answer. “Good. I was worried I’d have to carry the nervous energy for both of us.”
I chuckle. “You seem to be doing fine.”
“That’s because I decided not to overthink it,” she says. “Overthinking ruins things.”
“That might be the most unrelatable thing you’ve said so far.”
She grins. “I’ll work on it.”
I didn’t get nervous. I negotiated billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat. I stood in front of boardrooms filled with people waiting for me to fail and didn’t flinch. But sitting across from Evania, watching her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear asshe scanned the menu like this was the most normal thing in the world? That did something to me.
“So,” she said, glancing up at me. “I have an important question.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
She nodded solemnly. “It’s very important. Do you like pineapple on your pizza?”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Absolutely not.”
Her gasp was dramatic, her hand flying to her chest. “Wow. Judgmental much?”
“I have great taste,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
She laughed then—really laughed—and something in my chest loosened. The sound was easy, unguarded, like she wasn’t thinking about how she looked or sounded. She looked like she was thoroughly enjoying herself with me, and I liked it.
“I knew it,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re one of those.”
“One of those?” I leaned back in my chair. “Please enlighten me.”
“The type who pretends to be low-maintenance but has very strong opinions about food.”
I smiled despite myself. “You wound me.”
She grinned, eyes bright. “You didn’t deny it.”
I studied her for a moment, noting how relaxed but attentive she was. It was like she was absorbing everything around her while pretending she wasn’t. It made me curious in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“What about you?” I asked. “Pineapple defender?”
“Proudly,” she said. “Sweet and savory together just make sense.”
I hummed thoughtfully. “That tells me more about you than you realize.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head. “And what does it say?”
“That you like balance,” I said. “Contrast. You don’t mind when things don’t fit neatly into one category.”
Her gaze lingered on me a beat longer than before. “Or,” she said lightly, “it means I just like pineapple.”
I chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it.”
The waiter came by then to take our orders, and I let her go first, watching as she ordered a healthy serving of food. I was both surprised and impressed by her appetite. When the waiter left, she folded her hands together and leaned forward slightly. “Okay, let me ask you a real question.”
