Taste of You

I stopped beside her and set the plate down gently. She blinked down at it, surprised. Then looked up. Our eyes met. There was something unspoken in hers - confusion, hesitation, and just beneath it... maybe a flicker of something else.

"Still your favorite?" I asked.

Her lips parted like she might answer. But before she could, Nathan leaned in with that condescending smile I already hated.

"We didn't order that."

"It's on the house," I said, never breaking eye contact with her.

"She doesn't want it."

His voice was smooth. Sure of himself. Evie glanced at him. Just for a second. Then, softly, almost apologetically, she said, "I'm okay."

I looked at her. Just her.

Then smiled and said, "Nonsense."

I pulled out the empty chair beside her and sat down like I belonged there - like this wasn't a crowded restaurant on opening night, like I wasn't supposed to be anywhere else.

Nathan stiffened across the table, but I didn't look at him.

I picked up the fork. Sliced a clean piece from the edge of the tart. The chocolate broke just right - soft center, perfect texture. I turned to Evie and held it out.

"Come on," I said gently.

She hesitated. Looked at me like she wasn't sure if this was a joke or something dangerous. I kept my hand steady.

"Evie. Please, for me?"

She looked down at the fork. Then leaned in and took the bite. Slow. Careful. She closed her eyes for a second, just enough to let the taste sink in. I saw the memory hit her - somewhere deep. Somewhere warm.

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