A server approached, the soft scuff of shoes against the floor announcing her presence.
She asked if they needed anything else. Amelia barely registered the interruption. She ordered another drink without looking away from Stan for more than a second. When the server left, the small bubble around their table settled back into place, the distant hum of conversation and the low clink of cutlery returning like background static.
Stan leaned in slightly, voice dropping. The shift brought him close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his breath when he spoke. "You know, most people would expect a grand speech after a confession like that."
"Are you offering one?"
"No." His eyes glinted. "I prefer this. Watching you try not to smile every time I look at you."
Amelia shook her head, but the smile won again. She could feel the corners of her mouth refusing to stay still. "You're impossible."
"You've said that before."
"It's still true."
