One Night Only

The Apology

''I am going on this date whether you girls are against it or not.''

''But Byron, really? Who knows what she will do to you?'' Sasha responded.

''OMG, what if she is secretly sabotaging you by taking you to a secluded restaurant where no one can see the two of you for miles, and she takes your DNA, shoves it into a machine, and makes clones of you to take over the world so she can become queen with the Tweevils and—''

''Cloe, breathe. I'm going to be fine. Here's the address to the restaurant.''

Mr. Powell's polished brogues clicked sharply against the floor as he made his way to the exit of his motel room. The date he had agreed to—against all logic and reason—with his longtime adversary, Miss Burdine Maxwell, was happening tonight.

''You actually came. Look at you.'' Burdine snarked as he approached.

''No need to be salty, love. This is the bare minimum. I look even better naked.''

''I highly doubt that. Now come on, let's get inside.''

The pair stepped into the chic restaurant, bringing nothing but their coats and wallets. The scene felt almost surreal. Who would have thought that these two, notorious for their public spats, would be sitting across from each other, dining and drinking like old friends? Something felt off.

''I'm still shocked by the natural hair, Maxwell. I always had a soft spot for the blonde.''

''Then again, we're drinking wine, and I specifically asked for no alcohol.''

''Let me remind you who grabbed the drinks menu first.''

''I thought this was supposed to be my apology.''

''Oh, don't be ridiculous. Just because it's an apology doesn't mean I can't tease you a bit, innit?''

Burdine's skeletal fingers reached for his, trembling slightly from the anxiety of impressing her. Their eyes met, momentarily strangers in a crowded room. Breathing felt natural in each other's presence. Nothing could break the spell of their shared moment.

''Ma'am, sir. Here is your food.''

The food itself hardly mattered. She already had what she wanted—a handsome, wealthy man who treated her like the princess she was. She stared at her plate: a salad. Some things never changed. Her thoughts started racing again—concerns about what she should or shouldn't eat. The alcohol wasn't helping.

''Staring at your salad won't make it digest itself, you know.''

A strange silence fell over them.

''I—hm... Maybe it will. You seem to know your way around voodoo. Here, let me help you.''

Byron took his fork, already slick with barbecue sauce from the ribs he'd ordered, and stabbed at her leafy plate. His cheeky grin met her hesitant gaze as he held out a bite.

''Say ah...''

She obeyed, trying her best to maintain composure. His aura was overwhelming—warm, golden, unshakable. Just this simple gesture felt like a bandage over her heart. They carried on, exchanging knowing glances, chuckling at the odd man seated behind them, until their plates were empty.

After settling the bill, they left, full and satisfied, walking hand-in-hand toward the nearest park.

''I wish I weren't drunk... so I could remember this moment properly.''

''I wish I could remember anything, really.''

Her brows furrowed as she took a seat beside him on the bench. The night air was crisp, yet it felt lighter than ever. He sighed before elaborating.