Forbidden

Chapter 5.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of my blouse for the third time. I wasn't nervous. Of course not. It was just a casual dinner, a celebratory dinner, no less, one that marked the completion of the project I had been slaving over for weeks. There was no reason for the flutter in my chest or the slight tremble in my hands. And there was certainly no reason for Nate to call it anything else.

Yet, I knew he would.

I grabbed my purse, casting a final glance in the mirror. Simple, elegant, not too dressy. After all, this wasn't a date. It wasn't. I groaned inwardly as I thought about Nate's smug face when he suggested this dinner. The word "date" had slipped out of his mouth so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But to me, it was just another one of his annoying aggrovations. He knew how much he got under my skin, and that only seemed to make him more persistent.


I arrived at the restaurant, an upscale bistro with soft, ambient lighting and walls covered in art that was trying too hard to be modern. The air smelled faintly of rosemary and seared steak. I spotted Nate immediately. Of course, he had chosen a booth tucked into a corner—private, intimate, and exactly the wrong setting for what this was supposed to be. He stood as soon as he saw me, his crooked smile flashing across his face.

 
"There she is. Thought you were going to stand me up for our date," Nate said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance.

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, Nate was already pulling out my chair. "It's not a date, Nate. It's a celebratory dinner. There's a difference." I took my seat, deliberately avoiding eye contact as I slid into the plush leather.

Nate sat across from me, unbothered by my coldness. "If you say so. But I'm pretty sure 'celebratory dinner' is just code for 'we're celebrating the fact that you're secretly in love with me.'" His grin widened, and I just had to resist the urge to throw my water glass at him.

"I am not in love with you," I snapped, but Nate was already waving over the waiter, his smile unshaken.

"Two glasses of your finest whiskey, please," he said, ignoring my sharp glare.

 
The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving an awkward silence behind. I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. I hated this. I hated how easy it was for Nate to get under my skin, how his cocky charm twisted my emotions into knots. I had despised him since the first day we met—his arrogant swagger, the way he always had a witty comeback, how he constantly teased me as if we were characters in some romantic comedy. Except I wasn't laughing.

"You're really something, you know that?" I finally muttered, shaking my head.

"Something irresistible?" Nate asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I said, staring at him, my gaze hardening. "Something infuriating. You're always pushing, always acting like you're one step ahead. It's exhausting."

Nate chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And yet, here you are. Sitting across from me. At dinner. Looking gorgeous, by the way."

"Because we finished the project. "That's why I'm here." My voice was firm, but I could feel the slight heat creeping up my neck.

 
The project had been brutal, long hours, tight deadlines, and more than one argument between us about how to proceed. But we'd finished it. Together. And, I admit grudgingly, Nate had come through in ways I hadn't expected. He was more competent than I'd like to admit, even if he was also completely infuriating.

"Sure, sure," Nate said, his tone teasing. "We're celebrating work. Definitely not celebrating the fact that I'm finally breaking through that wall of ice you've built around yourself."

I scoffed. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto mine. "You can't hate me as much as you say. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

I stared back at him, my lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't wrong—at least, not entirely. As much as Nate drove me crazy, there was something about him that intrigued me. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was the fact that he never backed down, never let me keep him at arm's length no matter how hard I tried.

 
But that doesn't mean I like him. And it definitely doesn't mean I was going to let him call this a date.

The waiter returned with the whiskey, breaking the tension. Nate lifted his glass, offering it to me for a toast.

 
"To us," he said, that grin of his still firmly in place.

I hesitated before lifting my own glass. "To the project," I corrected, my voice firm. I clinked my glass against his and took a sip.

Nate watched me over the rim of his glass, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he set the glass down and leaned back, relaxing into the seat as if we were locked in some silent battle of wills. "You know, Judy," he began, using the nickname that never failed to irritate me, "you can fight this all you want, but eventually, you're going to have to admit it."

"Admit what?" I asked, my patience fraying.

"That you don't actually hate me."

I set my glass down a little harder than necessary. "I'm here for dinner, not for some ridiculous confession of non-hate, Nate."

"Yeah, but one day, you'll stop pretending." He smirked again, leaning forward. "And that's when I'll win."

"Win? This isn't a game," I shot back, my voice low and dangerous.

"Of course it is," Nate said easily. "But don't worry, I don't play fair."

I narrowed my eyes, my jaw tightening. The evening was already slipping into familiar territory—the push and pull, the banter that was never just banter. I hated that I enjoyed it, even just a little. And I hated him even more for knowing it.

I finished my whiskey in one gulp, setting the glass down and standing up abruptly. "Thank you for dinner. This 'celebration' is over."

Nate stood as well, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You'll come around," he said softly, as I grabbed her purse and turned to leave. "You always do."

"Don't hold your breath," I threw my bag over her shoulder, not daring to look back as I stalked out of the restaurant, my heart racing.

But as the door swung shut behind me, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Nate was right.

Authors Note

Hi guys im so sorry for not uploading in 2 years i think but i think my creative writing abilities are coming back so i hope you liked this chapter and definitely let me know your thoughts on it