❝𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞❞
𝐈n which Bill Kaultiz has always felt a one-sided connection with his childhood friend Taissa Moore, but what happens when she finally does notice?
【Bill Kau...
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Gustav slid the chair back, politely ushering Phoebe to sit down, his hand holding the back of the chair, with a wide smile spread across his slightly flushed face. A small giggle escaped Phoebe's lips as she watched Gustav with a smug look on his face, trying his best to impress her.
The two of them were out for dinner, on their official first date, at Giorgio Baldi in Santa Monica, upon them outside the sun was slowly setting and the skies were sweeping a pleasing pink hue. Phoebe looks away from the window, the pink tint from the sky filtering inside, and takes in Gustav's awing stare.
"A gentleman," She comments as she sits down.
Gustav chuckled lightly, quickly rushing to the chair opposite of her and sitting down, with his arms crossed out in front of him, leaning against the circular table, the table cloth pulling lightly underneath his strong arms. The tight velvet black dress that Phoebe wore sat snuggly against her sun-kissed thighs, drawing his attention to her waist as she brought one knee up over the other, her black kitten heels scraping against the wooden floor in the process.
"So, Miss Phoebe Hobbs," Gustav starts, quickly adverting his gaze back to her face, pushing the frames of his falling glasses back up the bridge of his neat nose, "Where did you grow up?"
"Bedford, New York," Phoebe said, with a gentle smile.
"Oh that's amazing, I've been to New York myself for a performance, it was great," He said, getting distracted, he cleared his throat, "What was that like growing up there?"
"Hm," She hums, pondering, "It was alright I suppose. What about you, where did you grow up?"
"I grew up in Magdeburg," Gustav said, his brown eyes meeting with her matching ones, his smile widening, "It was great" He added.
Phoebe rolled her eyes playfully, but before she could respond their water approached the table. He was a young man, his frame short and his face plush with freckles dusted along his full cheeks, his hair dark in ringlets with coffee-coloured eyes and tan skin, he smiled baring teeth covered in shiny brackets.
"Good evening," He says politely, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two, "My name is Dylan and I'll be your server for tonight," Dylan places two large paper menus on the table, his shoulder brushing against Phoebe's softly, the smell of strong laundry detergent drifts in front of them.
He pulls a small notebook from his apron pocket, "Can I get you started with anything? Any drinks?" He asked, looking at Gustav.
Phoebe crinkles her nose, slightly nauseous from the overpowering sweet smell, "I'll just have a Moet Rose, please Dylan,"
"I'll just have water thank you," Gustav says.
"Of course. Will you be needing a moment to browse over the menus?" Dylan asked, awkwardly thumbing the now empty apron pocket.
