“I was perfectly nice. I didn’t lead her on. That’s the nicest thing you can do.”
Dylan is grinning at me now. “So, Anita. Since we just watched Slater spectacularly fail at human interaction, maybe you can educate us. What’s your best pickup line? Or better yet, what’s the best pickup line that’s ever worked on you?”
“All right,” I say, taking a sip of my beer. “The best one that ever worked on me was actually really simple. This guy said, ‘I’m not a photographer, but I can picture us together.’ And it worked because he was sweet about it. He didn’t expect anything, didn’t push. Just said it with this shy smile and then asked if he could buy me coffee.”
They’re all nodding like they’re taking mental notes.
“Good to know,” Mason says thoughtfully.
“Your turn,” I say. “What are your pickup lines? I need to know if any of you have game.”
Dylan grins. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
I groan. “That’s awful.”
“It works!”
“On who? Desperate tourists?” Mason teases.
“Hey, don’t knock success. You go next,” Dylan prompts him.
Mason leans back. “I don’t really do pickup lines. Don’t need them.”
I can’t even deny it because the man might as well have walked off a magazine cover. “Come on,” I press. “Everyone has one buried somewhere.”
He sighs. “Fine. Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s even worse than Dylan’s!”
“I told you I don’t do them!” Mason shrugs, and he’s adorable.
Jasper is watching with a grin. “If I showed you my family tree, would you want to be on it?”
“Oh my God.” I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt. “These are all terrible. Where do you even find these?”
“The internet is a dark place,” Dylan says solemnly.
“Your turn, Slater,” I say, still grinning.
Slater has been quiet through all of this, and now everyone is looking at him expectantly. He doesn’t respond, just stares at me with those steel-gray eyes.
The silence stretches. Then he clears his throat. “You’re so beautiful you made me forget my pickup line.”
My entire body reacts before my brain catches up. A jolt shoots straight through me. Heat floods my cheeks, my neck, everywhere. It’s not just the words; it’s the way he says them. That voice. That tone. Something deep and familiar slides into place like a key turning in a lock.
I grip the edge of the table to steady myself, blinking fast as the edges of the room go a little fuzzy. My pulse pounds in places it has no business waking up at a dinner table.
I grab the menu and flap it like a fan, hoping no one notices.
Spoiler alert: They do.
“Careful, Slater,” Dylan says, grinning. “You’re weaponizing the voice again.”
“Poor Anita looks like she’s about to spontaneously combust,” Mason adds, raising his water glass in a mock toast.
Jasper smirks. “That narrator voice should be illegal in public. Use it responsibly, man.”
Slater doesn’t react. Just keeps watching me with that steady, unreadable gaze. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says smoothly, but I swear he’s fighting a smile.
