The night wind bit with a quiet chill,  

stretching their shadows long beneath the streetlights.  

Lynne stood a few steps ahead, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.  

Her teasing words—*“You drunk?”*—still hung in the air,  

light as smoke, but sharp enough to make Evan falter.  

“Not yet,” he muttered,  

his tone weary, almost hollow.  

Lynne’s smile deepened,  

a soft laugh slipping past her lips.  

“Then how about we keep drinking?”  

Her eyes flickered with mischief—  

or maybe curiosity.  

It was impossible to tell.  

Evan blinked, still dazed from the alcohol and the night’s weight.  

His mouth moved before his mind could catch up.  

“My paycheck… can’t afford another round there.”  

That made her laugh outright—  

hand covering her mouth, eyes curved into half-moons.  

“Who said anything about *there*?”  

“I’m off work.”  

She pointed ahead, her tone light but certain.  

“There’s a barbecue place at the corner. Cheap drinks, good food.  

Come on, let’s go.”  

He froze.  

Of all the things she could have said, he hadn’t expected that.  

The smell of smoke drifted on the wind—  

charcoal, spice, and fat sizzling over fire.  

It filled the night, warm and alive.  

He hesitated.  

Part of him wanted to say no—  

to draw the line before things blurred even more.  

But another part,  

the lonely, aching part,  

just wanted to stop thinking.  

Lynne was already walking away,  

her hair catching the light,  

her steps unhurried and easy.  

She didn’t turn back, only raised her hand.  

“Well? You coming or not?”  

Evan exhaled.  

Then followed.  

The closer they got,  

the stronger the scent of smoke became.  

The grill hissed, oil popping in rhythm,  

and laughter from nearby tables spilled into the street.  

Under the warm orange glow,  

it felt—just for a moment—  

like the world outside had disappeared.