“Ugh, no, it came out in 2014, and nobody wants to see that. But we could watchMetropolisor2001: A Space Odyssey.”
“Those aresuperold films as well, right?” she teases, poking fun at my taste.
“Vintage Sci-Fi,” I correct her, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Why are you into that?” she probes, leaning against the window’s glass with her shoulder.
“I don’t know. I watched them with my grandpa, and… what people did with what they had back then is so much more impressive than what they do now with all the tech.”
“You love tech. We work in tech,” she points out, arching an eyebrow.
“True, but I like…” I pause, letting the words find me, “… the raw creativity. They really had to think outside the box back then, didn’t they? Less tech, more brain.”
Amelia laughs, the sound light and easy. “So, you’re just nostalgic?”
“Something like that,” I admit with a half-smile, shrugging. “It’s about the art of innovation with limits.”
“Is that the reason why you’re the only one at Elysium with a classic watch instead of a smartwatch?” Amelia asks, a hint of curiosity in her voice as her eyes find the watch on my wrist.
“You noticed that, huh?” I reply, feeling a mix of surprise and a subtle warmth that she pays such close attention to me.
“I did.”
The room seems to quiet just a little as I look down at my watch, my grandpa’s watch, its hands ticking steadily. “Well, sometimes, the old things are just more beautiful and have more meaning to them. We shouldn’t forget that with all the innovation.”
Amelia’s eyebrows furrow in a cute crease as she contemplates my words. It’s a thoughtful, almost introspective look.
“Come on, let’s eat,” I offer, breaking the brief silence as I reach out to take her hand, walking her over to her table.
We take our seats, and Amelia watches me, curiosity lighting up her eyes as I serve the lasagna, scooping generous portions onto our plates. “Are you a vegetarian,too?” she asks, her fork hovering over her plate.
“I am,” I reply, savoring a bite.
The flavors blend perfectly.
“For a long time?” Her question lingers in the air, punctuated by her fork finally diving into the lasagna.
“Since forever,” I say with a casual shrug, taking another bite. The rich layers of the lasagna melt in my mouth, and I can’thelp but feel proud. “Do you like your creation?” I ask, nodding toward her plate.
She laughs, her hand covering her mouth like she always does, in a way that’s both charming and guarded. “Mycreation? I think it’s more yours than mine, but yes, it’s excellent. You did an amazing job, even though you’re fishing for compliments.”
I shoot her a playful glare. “Thatwas notfishing for compliments.”
“Oh, I disagree,” she retorts, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That was definitely a stroke for your ego, Mr. Donovan.”
Fuck, why are you doing this to me? Calling me Mr. Donovan like that, with that sassy tone and flirtatious glint in her eye, is just cruel. I have to shift my hips to give my poor cock a break from straining against my pants, which have been uncomfortably tight all evening.
“It’sDoctorDonovan,” I correct her, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.
“Oh my God, you’re such a Billy Big Bollocks!” she accuses, her voice dripping with amusement.
“Billy Big, what?”
“You’re a cocky arsehole.” She grins, but she says it with such delight it doesn’t really come off as an insult and makes the corners of my mouth twitch into a reluctant smile.
This kind of banter, sharp yet affectionate, is something I didn’t know I needed.Sheis something I didn’t know I needed—a breath of fresh air in my life, a spark of excitement that sets my pulse racing.
“You,MissStanley, are one of the lucky few who are allowed to call me Grey,” I say with a smirk, counting on her to correct me, to tell me that she’s a doctor too.
