Love Is Symphony |✓

| 18 |

Nothing fancy turned out to be fancier than I expected. Sweet Bites was an upscale bake shop that offered variety of sweet food from chocolate-chip cookies to the more complex meringue cakes to lollipops and chocolate fondues. With the interior as pink as candy floss, it sure caught the eye of a sweet-tooth.

"It's so pretty," I whispered to you and you squeezed my arm that was hooked through yours in reply.

The floor was cherry hardwood and the walls were a soft hue of pastel pink. Assortment of stuffed candy toys from swirly lollipops to cupcakes were scattered around the place, adding a spunk to the pastel colors that seemed to coat the shop. Even the the tables and chairs in which were all in pastel yellow and purple, were fluffy and looked so sweet.

You brought me to a table somewhere in the middle of the shop, just right beside a mother and her daughter who were sharing a plate of chocolate cake. My stomach dropped a little, but I remained smiling. This was supposed to be a nice day and it should stay that way.

"Liking it so far?" you asked.

I shrugged, pretending to think about it. "Eh, it's cute." The arrogant smirk on your face faltered a bit. "A little too girly for your taste, don't you think?"

You easily caught on to my teasing and that trait was soon tucked into the lists of things I liked about you. A lazy grin spreading onto you face as you eased back in your purple chair. "Thought you might like it. Don't girls enjoy sweets and pink? The place boasts both. It was the safest bet."

"Now, aren't you stereotyping girls." I let the unspoken quotation marks hung in the air and you defensively raised your hands.

"Hey, don't pretend as if you don't stereotype guys. Where's equality there?"

I shrugged. "Fair point. I'd give you that."

You grinned, then: "So, wanna taste?"

My brows rose at the implication of your words. Are you fucking serious? Were you really asking me to actually do—oh. Oh. As soon as the realization came, heat began rushing down my cheeks when I realized that you were asking about the menu that was laid down on the table between us. My eyes flickered to your finger was pointing to the picture of what looked like a strawberry cheesecake and blushed harder.

"Um, sure." I cleared my throat and adjusted the neckline of my dress. Your eyes followed my movement before meeting mine.

"I forgot to tell you earlier," you started, "but you look really pretty today." And when you thought that it wasn't enough, you quickly added, "violet suits you."

"Thanks," I said, laughing a little. "For a moment there I thought you're gonna go as far as saying that it brought out my eyes, but thanks." I motioned over your plaid green and light yellow, long-sleeved shirt that was rolled below your elbows over a white tee and jeans. A casual look that you managed to give a model-y vibe to. "You look great."

You lowered your head a little and frowned. "You mean: out of place."

We both laughed. "Just a little bit. But you're still as dashing as ever."

"Thank God." You playfully wiped a hand over your forehead before grinning at me. "Thought I lost my charm already. Glad to know it's still working."

"Oh, shut up." I waved a hand. "Why don't you just prove your charm by starting to order?"

And just like you always did that always seemed to brighten my day—you smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners and I took a deep breath.

"Gladly, m'lady."

–

This was beginning to look more of a romantic date than a friendly one.

Eating at one of the sweetest places in Los Angeles could be considered friendly, but stretching it as far as the cinemas—nope. Most certainly not. It was dangerously dipping too close to somewhere it shouldn't; something dangerous.

But was I brave enough to ask you to confirm my suspicions? No. I was probably enjoying it far too much to grow a bone of conscience or to have the decency to pull the night into the right direction.

"Are you sure you want to watch a horror film? Because last time I watched one with Miranda, she freaked out. She was screaming so loud inside the theater that I had to drag her out with me." You were waving your hands animatedly as the memories of that day shone in your eyes. An involuntary tug pulled at my chest when I heard Miranda's name pass through your lips with affection. I wondered if you ever talked about me that way with her, or will I always remain as the nameless waitress at a tea café?

"I promise I won't do any screaming." I looked up and was surprised to see a solemn look on your face.

"You're different, you know?" you said, running a hand through your hair. "I'm so used to girls who enjoy way too much chick-flick movies."

"It's not like I don't enjoy chick-flicks. I do happen to like them. But that doesn't mean I don't like horror films or an action-packed movie."

A smirk slowly carved its way to your lips, letting the small piercing by its corner shine under the light of the ticket booth. "I know," was all you said through a soft whisper. Your eyes bright. And I didn't know how should I feel about that. I knew it was selfish to enjoy the warmth that spread to my chest, but for another selfish moment again, I let it.

"Shut up." I playfully punched your shoulder and you laughed. I never thought it would sound so much better until that moment.