𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 | 𝖩𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗁𝖺𝗆

⁰⁶. 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗑𝗍

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━   𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖱𝖣 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭

IT HAD BEEN two days since Alex received the napkin, and she still hadn't texted the number. It wasn't that she didn't want to—it was that she was scared. What if it was a joke? What if she said the wrong thing? Her mind was spinning with possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking than the last.

Every time she pulled out her phone, the thought of messaging him made her palms sweat. It was ridiculous, she knew that, but the fear of rejection—or worse, embarrassment—was enough to keep her frozen.

When Alex told Ethan about the napkin, he didn't believe her at first—until she showed it to him. His skeptical expression shifted, though he still didn't seem entirely convinced. Layla, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She was practically bouncing with excitement, her energy filling the room.

While Ethan remained unimpressed, Layla's enthusiasm made Alex's nerves skyrocket. It was a strange mix of emotions—validation, panic, and the constant worry that texting him might change everything.

Alex, Layla, and Ethan were at Ethan's house, lounging in the living room while he played video games. The large TV screen illuminated the space, reflecting off the polished floors and sleek furniture. Ethan, the undisputed richest in their friend group, lived in a house that practically screamed luxury—a perk of his dad owning Maison D'or.

The house was big and spacious, with high ceilings, modern décor, and enough room for the three of them to spread out without ever feeling cramped. Yet, despite the extravagance, it still felt lived-in, thanks to the comfortable couches and the faint scent of whatever candles Ethan's mom always seemed to have burning.

Alex sat cross-legged on one of the plush sofas, scrolling mindlessly through her phone while Layla sprawled out beside her, flipping through a magazine she had grabbed from the coffee table. The sound of Ethan's controller clicking and his occasional muttered curses filled the room.

"Your house always feels like a hotel," Alex finally said, looking up and glancing around. "It's too perfect."

"Thanks," Ethan replied without looking away from his game. "I'll let my dad know you approve."

Layla chuckled, tossing the magazine onto the table. "Seriously, though, who needs this much space? I feel like I'd get lost in here."

"You say that like you don't show up uninvited every other day," Ethan retorted, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Alex leaned back, resting her head on the armrest. Despite the casual banter, her mind was elsewhere, drifting back to the napkin sitting on her bedside table. She hadn't mentioned it to Ethan or Layla yet on how she never texted the number, unsure of what their reactions would be. But the weight of the untexted number lingered in her thoughts, gnawing at her as she sat there pretending to be engaged.