Say Please

Feelings

"How were your seminars?" Chan smiled at me as we walked out the front doors.

"Fucking boring, yours?" I groaned.

"Same," he chuckled, "but did we really expect anything different? Anyway, ready for dinner? We'll have to grab a ride. It's a bit too far of a walk."

"And where is this place? And what is this place?" I questioned.

He threw his hands up. "Whoa, didn't you say I had control? That means I don't have to say anything right?" He winked at me and put his arm around my shoulders. I refused to shrink away from his touch. I needed it—I deserved it. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his face dart toward mine while he searched for permission. Silently, I nuzzled into him—no verbal response required.

We got a cab surprisingly fast, and headed west. I glanced out of the window excitedly as we twisted and turned through the city. We stopped in front of a tower I couldn't see the top of.

"Shall we?" Chan grinned. I nodded and hopped out, thanking our driver for his time. We wandered up to the entrance and I glanced at what the various floors held. He pointed toward floor seventy-one.

"All the way up there? Isn't that like... expensive?" I said in awe.

"Company credit card, remember?" He winked. I rolled my eyes and nodded, letting him lead me inside to the elevators. We rode in silence, the bellhop quietly standing in the front corner.

——

"This is too much, Chan," I whispered as I gaped at the menu: four course dinner for a hundred fifty per person. The descriptions of our options sounded delicious, don't get me wrong. I salivated as I read the seafood options.

"Like I said, don't worry about the little things, right?" He smiled from across the table.

"But this is more than a little thing. This is a four-hundred-dollar-meal little thing." Chan waved his hand dismissively, easing my worries. He'd been through this before, so he would know if this was too much or too little.

"Good evening, I am Julien, I will be your server for the night," a short, balding man grinned from the edge of our table. "Can I get you started with anything to drink? Would you like to see a wine list?" Chan raised an eyebrow at me, signaling my turn.

"Uh, do you have any rosé you prefer? We will take whichever you recommend." I said confidently. Julien nodded and turned toward the bar.

"Rosé," he glanced at me thoughtfully, "nice choice."

"It's really the only kind of wine I can drink," I laughed. Chan's gaze twisted slightly—from lighthearted to serious. I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere, but I didn't dare wonder much more than that. I glanced out the window nervously and interested myself in the city lights dwindling into the ocean in the distance.

"Best view in the city, I'm sure," he murmured.

Julien returned with a bottle and uncorked it. He delicately poured two glasses and left the wine to chill off to the side.

"Cheers to boring seminars," Chan said as he raised his glass.

I did the same. "Cheers to arrogant authors." The chime of our glasses crashing together rang throughout our section. Chan didn't seem to mind. His eyes were fixed on one spot—me.

"You know I still want to talk, right?" He questioned, his tone gentle.

I blushed, "yeah, I know."

"Would you prefer it here or at our hotel? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." Another wave of love—I mean... like?—washed over me. The little gestures that maybe meant nothing to him meant everything to me.